#it’s a testament to the performance that one could care this fucking much about a ‘bad’ guy in a schlocky movie

[ladamedusoif]

This is literally me in bed right now having just watched Golden Circle in full for the first time.

I just… what the fuck was going on and why did Whiskey deserve being minced but the president who actually planned mass death just got slapped in handcuffs?

He wasn’t actually “working for the other side”, Harry, he was traumatised and grief-stricken and had had to relive the horror of remembering what happened to his girl and their boy all over again.

Goddammit.

And don’t get me started on the “let’s make sure they see him as pure bad because he’s implied to be sexist and racist” shit.

I should not be this irate about that fucking movie. 😂

Anyway. I choose to believe this man is absolutely fine and living his best life and later exposed shady shenanigans at the “distillery” or something.

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | five

🐴Chapter summary: You return home to the ranch, and finally get to call it home again. Jimin helps you move your stuff and you gradually feel yourself fall more and more for him.  🐴Chapter title: Our Home, Our Place 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: fluff with fluff on top 🤭 Also, there’s a piano that deserves a warning 👀 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 11k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “This is Home” by Kate Voegele. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: MWAH! There’s just so much sexual tension in this, it is so damn fluffy and I loved writing it!! The tension was so palpable that I was so fucking close to giving in and let them have some well needed fun and a release (read= smut)— but no!!! Not yet 👿 I really hope you like this one!! Please let me know, okay? 🥹✨

Also, I am fully aware that this isn't Monday (at least in my timezone), but I just really wanted to post it and I've been thinking about changing the post days...

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“Don't give up Try one more time We won't give up Let me help you Let me care Walk beside me I'll be there So don't give up Don't walk away” - ‘Don’t Give Up’ by Rebecca Lavelle

The tires of your car dig into the sandy dirt road with an unwavering resolve, each groove in the rugged terrain a testament to your journey. Your hands firmly clasp the steering wheel, the same determination coursing through you as it did months ago, yet this time, the air is charged with a different energy. You traverse the landscape, carrying not burdens but tidings of joy, and the road ahead unfolds like a welcoming embrace.

The sand and dust perform an ethereal dance before the windshield, a choreography of particles that somehow feels like nature's celebration. As you welcome the familiar landscape with open arms, the mountains maintain their majestic stance in the distance, towering sentinels against the canvas of the sky.

The car becomes a rolling symphony, pulsating with happy melodies that mirrors your newfound joy. An upbeat song reverberates through the vehicle, harmonizing with the rhythm of your contentment. 

Yet, beneath the surface of your happiness, there's a current of nervous anticipation, a symphony of emotions playing as you approach the threshold of home.

Anticipation tightens its grip on your heart as you ponder the impending reunion with Jessi. 

Will she swing the door open with open arms, or will it slam shut in rejection? The possibilities dance like shadows in your mind — a kaleidoscope of emotions waiting to unfold. 

Will her reaction be a thunderous scream, a fiery expulsion, or a demand to go, leaving the echoes of your past behind?

You fervently pray that won't be the case, your fingers tightening around the steering wheel as if clinging to the last shreds of hope. The grit in your resolve intensifies, bolstered by the weight of the positive news you carry back with you. 

In your heart, the fervent wish lingers: that this return won't be met with closed doors but with the open arms of a hopeful tomorrow. You reassure yourself, whispering to the wind, that the news you bear will be the bridge to mend fractured ties.

You cling to the steering wheel, fingers entwined, desperately yearning for Jessi to embrace your decision with the same warmth that radiates in your heart. 

As you drive, the memories encircle your mind like cherished echoes, their weight lifting off your shoulders. These fleeting recollections become comforting companions, guiding you home with a gentle embrace.

Your car, crammed to the brim with suitcases and bags, feels like a mobile vault of memories and possibilities. The notion of retrieving the rest of your belongings, perhaps with the help of a horse trailer, because you sure do have a lot of stuff!

The sign with your family name emerges like an old friend, triggering a cascade of memories that swirl around you – the carefree days of childhood, laughter echoing with your sister, the enduring camaraderie shared with Jimin, and the intricate tapestry of your adult life woven with triumphs and missteps, a testament to the journey of growing up and finally finding your place on the ranch.

As you draw near to the ranch, a hint of uncertainty flits through your thoughts, but amidst it, a resolute confidence surges within – you reassure yourself that not only can you navigate this return, but everything will unfold seamlessly, and everything will be fine.

Fueled by unwavering determination, you approach the ranch with a mindset that Jessi, with all her emotions, won't sway your resolve. This time, there's no room for surrender; you've learned from past experiences, and the echoes of your previous retreat will not repeat. You're here to stand firm and face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Embracing a resolute spirit, you skillfully guide your car along the serpentine path that descends towards the heart of the ranch.

As the well-known scenery unfolds before you, a subtle unease snakes through your veins. Jessi once demanded you to depart; will she repeat the gesture? 

Yet, your heart clings to the hope that this time, the news of your decision regarding the inheritance will elicit a different reaction, one of understanding and happiness.

The ranch stands unchanged, a testament to time, yet this visit, the burden of yesteryears no longer drapes over you. Instead, a vast sea of possibilities stretches before you, offering a chance to forge a new life, to reconnect with your roots, and to weave a reconciliation with the chapters of your past.

Bringing the car to a halt before the main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A nervous and heavy sigh escapes your lips, intertwining with the palpable anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers clenching determinedly against the steering wheel. 

This is your moment, and you can do it.

This time, you don't linger in the car to muster your determination. Swiftly, you swing the car door open and inhale the familiar scent of the land you once called home, hoping it will embrace you again. 

Your heart quickens its pace as your sneakers connect with the rugged ground. This is your chance to reclaim what was lost. 

You can do it.

Trekking the uneven terrain in your sneakers becomes a seamless journey. Approaching the imposing front door, you assertively deliver a knock as a polite gesture. However, unlike before, you don't linger in anticipation, choosing instead to take charge of the moment.

With a confident grip on the handle, you assertively push your way into the familiar space, a subtle declaration of ownership echoing in your every step. After all, this is rightfully yours now.

As you stroll down the corridor, a nostalgic echo of your arrival weeks ago, you casually poke your head into the kitchen. To your surprise, Ha-rin is diligently at work, and your sudden appearance startles her, causing a mix of both surprise and curiosity to dance across her features.

An eruption of excitement escapes Ha-rin as she exclaims, “Oh my god! You’re back!” 

Giggles and near-screams accompany her joyful dance, abandoning whatever task held her attention. In an instant, she abandons her work, rushes toward you, and engulfs you in a warm, hearty hug. The embrace becomes a haven, her familiar scent working its magic to soothe your jangled nerves. As you reciprocate the hug, her ebony locks playfully tickle your cheeks, creating a comforting cocoon of familiarity.

Her voice echoes with genuine joy, “We missed you! The others are gonna be so happy to see you back!” Each word resonates with enthusiasm, and she steps back to survey you. Dressed for ranch life, not like you were weeks ago, no heels this time, just your trusty sneakers. Jeans and a shirt complete the ensemble, a departure from the dresses of yestertime, signaling a readiness to embrace the authenticity of ranch living once again.

“Even Jessi?” An arched eyebrow accompanies your question, a low chuckle escaping your lips. You inquire, teasingly probing for details about the reception awaiting you from your sister.

“Yeah!” Her affirmation resonates with genuine warmth, and she continues, “She actually wanted to call you, but I guess she was too stubborn…” 

Ha-rin rolls her eyes as she shares this tidbit, and you feel a subtle acceleration in your heartbeat. Could it be that your sister has genuinely missed you?

Before you can linger on that intriguing piece of information, Ha-rin eagerly ushers you outside, pulling you along as she navigates the yard in search of the rest of the girls.

Ha-rin practically yanks you towards the stables, and as you step inside, you discover Soo-ah and Ara diligently tending to the horse stalls. At the sound of your entrance, they abandon their shovels, rushing towards you with shouts of your name echoing through the stables.

“I hoped you'd be coming back!” Soo-ah exclaims, enveloping you in a warm and tender hug, and Ara follows suit, creating a trio of affectionate embraces. Laughter bubbles up as the three girls express their joy at your return.

Anxiety courses through your veins as you inquire, “Where's Jessi?” 

The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, and you're eager to confront this part of your return.

“I think she’ll be back soon. She’s with Jungkook,” Ara informs you, and Soo-ah and Ha-rin exchange amused glances, their mischievous smiles leaving your face a silent question mark.

Sensing your silent inquiry, Ha-rin shakes her head, “Not like that.”

Not that you mind if that happened. After all, you have no claim over Jungkook, nor do you want one. Your interests and heart lie elsewhere. Still, you'd be genuinely happy for them if they ever get together—though you highly doubt it given how similar they seem, and the fact that she’s currently with Namjoon.

As your laughter resonates through the barn, the rhythmic beat of hoofbeats draws near. Before long, Cinnamon and your sister appear at the barn doors. Jessi's hat sits atop her head, and her brown curls cascade gracefully as she guides Cinnamon to a gentle walk and then a complete stop.

Her eyes fix on you, and an unexpected vulnerability creeps over you, as if you're laid bare for inspection, wondering how she'll respond. However, her gaze remains silent, devoid of anger, and a hint of happiness even appears to dance in her eyes.

Dismounting Cinnamon with effortless grace, she leads him into the barn, drawing closer to you. “Hi,” she greets with a simple nod, her actions speaking louder than words as she proceeds past you, focused on the task of untacking her horse.

“Hey,” you greet, a touch of nerves in your voice despite your determination. 

“I was hoping we could talk?” 

The request hangs in the air, your attempt at steadiness wrestling with the nerves coursing through your veins.

“Absolutely, I'd like that,” she replies, focused on removing Cinnamon's bridle. “I just need to put Cinnamon out in the pasture, and then we can grab a beer on the terrace. You go ahead, I'll join you in a moment.”

“Alright, sounds good,” you reply, a wave of relief washing away most of the nervous tension. You give a friendly wave to Soo-ah and Ara, leaving them to complete the stall cleaning as you and Ha-rin make your way back to the house.

“Jessi seems happy,” you start the conversation while descending towards the house, and Ha-rin glances at you with a warm smile. “I told you she’s been missing you. She’s happy to see you,”  she shares as both of you step into the kitchen.

“I just thought she hated me,” you confess, your voice wavering slightly as you locate and retrieve two beers from the fridge.

“Can't vouch for the past, but ever since you left, she's been doing a lot of thinking about you,” Ha-rin confides with a gentle gaze, returning to her food preparations. You offer her a grateful nod before making your way out to the terrace.

The red-brown wood deck of the terrace is adorned with inviting lounge chairs, and a spacious table surrounded by eight chairs sits proudly in the backyard. A metal wind chime dangles from the ceiling, silent in the absence of wind.

Seated on the terrace steps, you patiently await your sister's return. Your eyes wander across the backyard, where a myriad of bushes and trees creates a captivating display of lush greenery. Amidst the natural beauty, you ponder on how she will respond to your news. A mix of hope and uncertainty lingers in the air. Despite her earlier demeanor, you find solace in the belief that, at the very least, she may not react negatively.

Jessi emerges into view, the glistening beads of sweat on her forehead bearing witness to the exertion from the stables. You extend the cold beer to her, and she grabds it graciously, taking a seat beside you on the terrace. 

As the refreshing hiss of opened beers fills the air, you gather your courage and broach the topic, “There's something important I've been wanting to discuss with you—about my inheritance.”

A fleeting tension tightens her shoulders momentarily, a subtle reaction not lost on you. Yet, she eases into a composed stance, nodding in silent permission for you to proceed.

“I've had a change of heart about selling it,” you start, a newfound lightness pulsating through your chest. “Keeping the ranch feels right, and…”

“Can I make a home on the ranch, if you'll have me?” The words tumble out, a mix of question and declaration. Nervousness creeps back as she gazes at you, caught off guard by the weight of your words.

She exhales, shoulders dropping, “I'm relieved you're not selling your inheritance,” she says. The rhythm of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and your eyes widen. The tone in her voice leaves you uncertain; it doesn't sound like an invitation for you to stay.

“And this place is as much yours as it is mine. So, of course, you can stay,” she offers a soft smile, and all her features seem to relax, a stark contrast to how you've seen her before during that time you spent here last.

You feel a flood of reassurance washing over you, her words finally reaching you. “I want you to stay too,” she adds before you can finish your thought, and a big smile creeps onto your face. You can't help it, just like you can't help the tears that threaten to escape.

“I've genuinely missed you,” she admits, her words accompanied by the subtle gesture of bringing the beer to her lips for a sip.

Your heart swells with affection and love, and you open up, saying, “I’m so sorry about how I behaved last time— all those times I fucked up, and how I mishandled the situation with the inheritance.”

You savor a sip of the beer, relishing the moment as the warmth of the conversation with your sister pairs perfectly with the soothing hues of the sunset in the background.

“It’s fine. And it’s natural to mess up, and I’ll try to be better at not grilling you for your mistakes. And you really shouldn’t feel so bad when you make them,” her words offer a refreshing breeze, a promise of understanding, and the teasing pat on your shoulder feels like a gentle reminder that even in the realm of mistakes, there's room for laughter and forgiveness.

“We’re sisters, you know? We should stick together and help each other. Not bring each other down,” as the sun dips lower, casting hues of warm orange across the sky, her words resonate like a melody of reconciliation.

“That would be nice,” your voice carries a wistful tone as you express the longing for the dream of sisterhood to become a reality. The prospect of working together, mending what was once broken, tugs at the strings of your heart, echoing the echoes of a childhood dream that's now within reach.

“I’m also sorry for how I behaved,” in that moment, the sincerity in her gaze is palpable, and as she gently clasps your hands, a shared understanding seems to bridge the gap between past regrets and present reconciliation. 

“I’m happy you didn’t give up on this place or on me.”

As joyous tears cascade down your cheeks, her words resonate with a profound truth that rekindles the warmth of a long-lost friendship. Squeezing her hand in a shared moment of understanding, you draw her into a heartfelt embrace. The sensation is transformative, a healing balm for the wounds of time, and an assurance that, from this point onward, things can only evolve for the better.

As you prepare to meet up with the guys at the local bar, a sense of relief washes over you. This time, you're comfortably clad in your own clothes, steering clear of any daring ventures into your sister's wardrobe. You vividly remember what went down when you borrowed her clothes— and you certainly don’t want a repeat of that!

Jessi takes the wheel, embarking on the two-hour journey, the atmosphere inside the car is charged with contagious laughter and joyful giggles that resonate throughout the entire ride.

Soo-ah's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she inquires, “Do you think Hobi will be there?” 

Ara, turning around with a sheepish look, responds with a hint of playfulness, “Why wouldn't he be?”

“I don’t know,” Soo-ah chuckles nervously, uncertainty lingering in her eyes. You offer a reassuring squeeze to her leg and assure her, “He'll be there, don't worry.”

As you pull into the bar's parking lot, the sight of both Jungkook and Jimin's pickup trucks quickens your heart. The vibrant blue hue of Jimin's truck captures your attention, and an unexpected wave of nervousness causes your palms to sweat. You subtly fidget, praying that Soo-ah beside you remains oblivious to the sudden surge of emotions.

Entering the bar, the boisterous laughter of the guys instantly guides your gaze to a larger table, where they've gathered. A symphony of hearty laughs reverberates through the room, and as you approach, you can't help but notice their hats carefully placed on the table. A warm smile spreads across your face, ready to join the camaraderie.

As your sister claims a chair beside Jungkook and Soo-ah smoothly secures a seat next to Hoseok, Ara and Ha-rin settle in beside Yoongi. With a subtle gesture, Jimin deftly pulls out the empty chair next to him, a silent invitation for you to join the circle.

“Thank you,” gratitude colors your words as you offer a soft smile, yet beneath the surface, your heart quickens in the magnetic pull of Jimin's presence, settling into the chair with a hint of anticipation.

“Welcome back,” Hoseok quips, a playful smile lighting up his face as he raises his beer in a toast to celebrate your return. The others swiftly join the gesture, already having ordered a beer for you in anticipation. A chuckle escapes you, appreciating the friendship, and you seamlessly join in with your own beer.

“You know, you really should be thanking Jimin,” you remark after taking a sip, directing your gaze toward him with tender eyes and a soft smile. 

The others exchange curious glances, signaling that they might not be aware of Jimin's visit to the city—an aspect you assumed was common knowledge.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks, and all eyes, except Jimin's, fixate on you with expectant curiosity. In a hushed tone, you confess, “Jimin came to visit me in the city.” The revelation resonates loudly, met with gasps of ‘oh's’ that hang in the air.

“So that's where you went,” Jungkook teases with a sly smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. A synchronized eye-roll between you and Jimin follows, a silent agreement against the mischievous banter.

You catch Soo-ah whispering to Hoseok, disbelief evident in her hushed tones. A chuckle escapes your lips, finding amusement in their reactions.

You turn to face Jimin, his cheeks adorned with a subtle blush, his soft features inviting and his plush, slightly chapped lips capturing your attention. “Thank you, Jimin, for bringing me back,” you express, your voice carrying a weight of affection and gratitude. In those words, you hope he senses the depth of your appreciation for his kindness and the significant impact it had on you.

He grins, a warm and expansive smile that causes his eyes to disappear into the contours of his cheeks. 

“Anytime. I'm glad you came home,” he replies with genuine warmth, his words echoing the sincerity that radiates from his expression.

“Yeah, I'm glad I came home too,” you murmur in a breathy tone, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. For a moment, it feels like an intimate exchange, a shared secret between just the two of you, the world narrowing into tunnel vision. Reality snaps back, and you remember you're not alone, the rest of the group observing you with curious eyes.

“Well, let's toast to that too then!” Hoseok exclaims with infectious mirth, prompting the group to raise their glasses for another sip of beer. 

You shift your gaze back to the table, yet the sensation of Jimin's eyes on you persists. His stare carries an inviting warmth, and a longing tugs at you, wanting you to plant your head on his shoulders, reminiscent of the moments in your apartment when you leaned into his sturdy frame. You remember how your heart echoed the rhythm of his, creating a sense of belonging and familiarity that made you feel truly at home.

Laughter swirls around you, but your thoughts orbit in a distant realm. As you attempt to refocus on the conversation, a peculiar dynamic unfolds between your sister and Jungkook. Their interactions carry a subtle awkwardness, an unspoken occurrence concealed beneath forced smiles. Tension simmers between them, an invisible thread tying knots of secrecy, yet the exact nature eludes your grasp.

Averting your gaze from the enigmatic exchange, you catch the collective scrutiny of the girls fixed upon you. A blush ignites your cheeks, and you involuntarily inhale sharply. Their sly smiles and approving glances make your embarrassment intensify, and you find yourself momentarily breathless, struggling to swallow even a sip of your beer.

As the liquid spurts out, leaving you panting for air, Jimin swiftly places a warm hand on your back, sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body. 

In that moment, you feel like you're both on fire and gasping for breath, a peculiar combination of sensations that leaves you caught in an unexpected whirlwind. 

Great, you think, struggling to regain your composure amidst the chaos.

Concern etches his features as he anxiously inquires, “Are you okay?” 

Your breath continues to dance erratically against his palm, the warmth of his touch providing a comforting anchor in the midst of your momentary struggle to regain composure.

As you finally regain control over your breath, a self-deprecating chuckle escapes your lips, a feeble attempt to divert attention from your momentary lapse. The group seamlessly resumes their conversations, allowing you a moment to collect the tattered shreds of your dignity. 

Why does it always seem like you're destined to make a fool of yourself?

Jimin's touch lingers on your back, a tantalizing journey that ventures perilously close to the curve of your ass, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

Jimin's warm smile graces his face as he extends an invitation, “We're throwing a party at our place in a few days, and you're all invited.” Meanwhile, his hand continues its subtle dance, now gently rubbing your lower back, creating a magnetic connection that adds an intriguing layer to the invitation.

No. No. That’s dangerous to think about, you reprimand yourself.

His touch, gentle and warm, sends a wave of sensations through you, igniting a rush of memories and desires. The mere brush of his fingers on your skin catapults your mind into overdrive, recalling the comforting closeness you shared. Your thighs involuntarily clench as you silently curse the intensity of your own lingering thoughts. 

Damn it.

Suddenly, he withdraws his hand, leaving an unexpected chill in the space it once occupied. The absence of his touch sends a subtle shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the warmth you had grown accustomed to in that fleeting moment.

“Absolutely, count us in!” Jessi exclaims, her face lighting up with enthusiasm, and she dives back into conversation with Jungkook, the topic eluding your grasp.

Your thoughts are a whirlwind of Jimin—his gentle tousled blonde locks, the memory of his firm thighs, how both strong and inviting they felt—and you snap back to reality, realizing you might be wearing your infatuation like a neon sign. 

Damn it.

Pull yourself together; you can't afford to be practically drooling in front of everyone.

Summoning determination, you refocus on Jimin. “Jimin, there's something I want to ask you,” you start, a soft smile masking the nervousness that makes your palms slightly sweaty.

He responds with a smile and a chuckle, clearly aware of your flustered state. “Go ahead, ask anything,” he encourages, his warmth providing a comforting backdrop to your nervousness.

Your gaze meets his, hopeful and sincere, as you muster the courage to pop the question. “I was wondering if you could lend me a hand moving all my stuff from the city back home to the ranch?” The subtle widening of his smile and the softening of his eyes tell you that your request has found a welcome place in his heart, and he leans in.

“Do you need a pair of strong hands to lift heavy furniture?” His playful tease sends a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks, your mind racing with thoughts of his strong biceps and thighs. 

Chuckling at your reaction, he leans in, making your heart race even faster. 

Gathering your composure, you respond with a playful retort, “Well, I do have a lot of stuff, and I need you to drive with a horse trailer. Your muscles would be a huge bonus.” The words tumble out in a rush, a mix of nervousness and a desire to keep the conversation between just the two of you.

His laughter fills the air, clearly enjoying the playful banter. “Absolutely, I'm in. Just let me know when you want to get the show on the road,” he says with a grin, his willingness to help evident in his warm and teasing tone.

As you exhale, returning your attention to the group's conversation, a sudden surge of warmth envelops your thigh. Your breath catches in anticipation, your body responding to the gentle caress as if it were a spark igniting a flame.

As Jimin navigates his blue truck down the rustic dirt road, a horse trailer trailing behind, he turns to you with a warm smile. Leaning comfortably against the seat, one hand effortlessly steering, the other casually resting on his thigh, he inquires, “How much stuff are we bringing back?” 

His eyes twinkle with a mix of curiosity and readiness for the adventure ahead, as if the journey is not just about transporting belongings but weaving a story between two souls on the open road.

Oh heavens. Your gaze unintentionally lingers on Jimin's dangerously enticing thighs, you inwardly scold yourself—those legs are a hazard, a potential downfall for you at any moment. A shaky breath escapes you, a silent reminder that Jimin is awaiting your response to the question he posed.

Your smile holds a mix of determination and anticipation as you respond, “All of it. I've canceled my lease on the apartment, so everything needs to come with us back home.” 

As the cold air from the conditioning unit gently tousles your hair, you welcome the refreshing breeze, a stark contrast to the heated and lingering thoughts that play provocatively in your mind.

“Cool,” he says, a charming smile gracing his lips, yet his gaze lingers a moment too long, a silent undercurrent of unspoken words hanging between you two, before he diverts his attention back to the winding road ahead.

You've sensed his lingering gazes for weeks, and there's a magnetic pull that suggests his childhood crush may not have faded. The feeling is mutual— oh boy do you feel it, your heart echoes his sentiments. Does he sense your reciprocation? Uncertain, you contemplate subtle ways to convey your emotions, crafting a silent symphony that resonates without uttering the words aloud.

As your gaze involuntarily drifts to his thighs once more, a daring notion plays in your mind—should you dare to venture a touch? 

Lost in contemplation, you're oblivious to his subtle amusement until his hand, warm and reassuring, lands on your thigh. His chuckle, a shared secret between you, unfolds a world of possibilities along the open road.

In a heartbeat, a cocoon of warmth engulfs you, igniting a familiar flame within. His touch possesses an enchanting power, a spell that renders you warm, giddy, and teetering on the edge of desire every single time.

With a sheepish smile, you gently place your hand over his calloused one, settling back into your seat. In this moment, everything feels just right.

The remainder of the lengthy drive unfolds in a serene silence, allowing both of you to bask in the comforting presence of the other, not needing words. There's a certain beauty in the simplicity, especially with his warm hand resting so reassuringly on your thigh.

As the towering cityscape looms into view, a nostalgic pang tugs at your heart. This bustling metropolis has been your home for countless years, a backdrop to the chapters of your life. Now, faced with the daunting task of packing up, you're about to embark on a journey back to your roots. The skyscrapers and imposing buildings seem to reach new heights on the horizon, and with precision, Jimin expertly navigates the road to secure a parking spot right outside your apartment complex.

Exiting the truck, you're greeted by a wave of stifling, humid air that carries the city's unique blend of pollution. The atmosphere seems almost suffocating as you make your way back to the trailer. There, Jimin is already in action, deftly opening it and lowering the ramp, setting the stage for a smooth and efficient loading process.

“Ready?” Jimin's infectious smile lights up the moment as you approach your apartment, your heart pulsating with anticipation, matching the rhythm of each step you take together.

With a sense of purpose, you had pre-packed your belongings in sturdy boxes before your return to the ranch, fueled by a fierce determination to make it your permanent home. Now, alongside Jimin, the only task at hand is to efficiently load the carefully packed boxes and furniture into the waiting horse trailer.

Amidst the sea of packed furniture and boxes, Jimin shoots you a bemused look, his chuckle echoing through the apartment. “Did you expect that Jessi would say yes to let you stay at the ranch, before you came back?” he teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Smirking playfully, you retort, “Well, I like to be prepared. If Jessi had told me to leave, I would've just unpacked it all.” A chuckle escapes your lips, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug as you snatch a box.

His eyes playfully twinkle as he suggests, “You grab all the small boxes, and let me do all the heavy lifting, okay?” His gaze surveys the cluttered space, finally settling on your substantial couch.

You nod in agreement, a subtle pang of guilt flickering in your chest. The thought crosses your mind that he might exhaust himself, particularly his right leg. Perhaps you can repay the favor with another leg massage later?

In just a few hours, you manage to load the trailer and Jimin's pickup truck with all your belongings. As you lock the door to your apartment, the weight of finality settles in. With a click, the door is secured, and you slip the key into the mailbox for the landlord.

Jimin's voice carries a comforting warmth as he suggests, “Let's head back home,” wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace. Inhaling his musky scent, memories flood back from the night he stayed over. A hopeful anticipation lingers, wishing for more moments like those to come.

Jimin ushers you back to the truck, courteously opening the door for you. You offer him a soft smile as you slide into the seat. Observing him as he circles the vehicle, his worsened limp catches your attention. 

The realization sinks in—Jimin pushed himself too hard, his usual grace overshadowed by the toll of exertion, all for your sake, and a gentle frown forms on your face.

Jimin secures the trailer with a confident click, then slides into the driver's seat. A warm smile graces his lips as he turns the key in the ignition, setting the engine humming to life. With a smooth shift into first gear, he directs the car forward, his eyes meeting yours in a silent promise of the journey ahead.

As the soft strains of music fill the car, a subtle unease creeps over you. Anxious thoughts dance in your mind, a symphony of guilt echoing within, knowing that Jimin might be in pain, all because of you.

“Does your leg hurt?” 

Biting your lip, you seek reassurance, even though the truth is already etched in the lines of his face. 

“Yeah, a bit,” he confesses, briefly straightening his leg before a fleeting pause on the gas pedal. A momentary interruption in his driving, a subtle acknowledgment of the pain he endures. The rhythm of the road resumes, but you sense the underlying strain in his voice, a melody of discomfort beneath the surface.

Slowly, your hand ventures across the center console, finding its place on his solid thigh. His surprise is evident in the brief flicker of his gaze, but he remains silent as your fingers press and massage, the rhythmic motion a silent dialogue between you. His eyes fixate on the road ahead, while your touch weaves its soothing spell on the taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

You playfully prod your fingers into the fabric of his denim, kneading his thigh as though sculpting a pliable material. A subdued moan escapes him, and you catch the sight of him nibbling on his lower lip, a subtle sign of the sensations your touch ignites.

Your hand glides with a purpose up and down his sturdy thigh, sensing the subtle tension in his muscles. With each ascent, you feel the clenching response beneath your touch. 

Moving higher up his thigh, his breaths become shallower, a rhythm resembling both panting and anticipation.

He shifts his gaze toward you, a mixture of plea and vulnerability in his eyes. 

“Please stop.”

As if seared by an invisible flame, your hand freezes in place, but you resist pulling it away immediately. There's a silent plea in his eyes, and you sense there's more beneath the surface, waiting to be revealed.

He exhales a prolonged moan, his voice carrying a hint of urgency, “I might lose focus on the road if you keep that up.”

Your gaze lingers on the subtle bulge in his pants, eliciting a gasp that quickly turns into a relaxed smile as you recognize his pleasure. With one last tantalizing squeeze, you withdraw your hand, offering him a soft, knowing smile, your eyes revealing the unmistakable presence of desire.

His laughter fills the air as he acknowledges your efforts, “Your massage worked wonders. I must admit, I do enjoy your touch,” a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

You accept the compliment with a subtle grin, savoring the fact that he's visibly affected. There might be a chance to pick up where you left off later, but for now, he needs to concentrate on the road.

“This is seriously not ranch wear!” 

Protesting against the impracticality of your footwear, you let out a groan as your sneakers get swallowed by the soft earth, your feet sliding uncomfortably inside them.

Amidst the shared laughter, Soo-ah's hands expertly reinforcing the fence with a tool, she suggests with a playful grin, “Perhaps it's high time for a trip into town to snag yourself some proper boots?”

“Absolutely,” you confirm, gripping the fence firmly as she expertly weaves in fresh wire to mend the spots where the cattle had left their mark.

“We can go town later, yeah?”

You watch the beads of sweat cascade down her forehead as she channels her strength into securing the wires to the fence. You nod in agreement, realizing the practicality of having a sturdy pair of boots, especially considering your decision to make this place your home.

Soo-ah takes charge of the heavy lifting, skillfully securing the wires while you provide the essential support by steadying the fence posts. Together, you form a seamless partnership, ensuring the fence's resilience under the weight of teamwork.

“Let’s head back home, I’m tired,” exhaustion paints Soo-ah's words as she catches her breath, prompting the decision to retreat home. You both make your way back to the horses, gracefully mounting them before embarking on the journey back to the ranch, where the promise of rest and respite awaits.

After dismounting the horses and securing them in the stable, a parched sensation lingers in your throat, coaxing you towards the house in pursuit of a refreshing gulp of cold water. The relentless heat persists, a reminder that perhaps bringing water along during the fence repair would have been a wiser choice.

Announcing your need for a wardrobe change, you declare, “I have to swap this drenched shirt,” and with purpose, stride towards your room—the guest room that has cradled you since your arrival months ago. However, upon entering, an uncanny realization dawns—your belongings have vanished. 

Surveying the room, the neatly made bed flaunts unfamiliar sheets, an unsettling cleanliness pervades the space. Panic prickles as you frantically wonder, where's your stuff?

As you retrace your steps to the terrace where Soo-ah is seeking solace from the sweltering heat, you can't help but voice your growing concern, “Do you have any idea where my belongings are? My room is stripped bare.” 

The words hang in the air, and as you glimpse a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, an unsettling curiosity tightens in your chest.

Her words leave a trail of mystery in the air, and you feel a surge of anticipation. “Head upstairs and check the room next to Jessi's,” she suggests, a knowing smile playing on her lips, her fingers delicately pressing the cold glass of water against her flushed face. 

With a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling within you, you follow Soo-ah's suggestion and ascend the staircase. Navigating through the familiar halls, you finally reach your sister's room and, with a tentative breath, reach for the handle of the door adjacent to it. The wood creaks softly as you push it open, revealing a room transformed, yet oddly familiar.

You slide into the room, and your jaw practically meets the floor at the sight that unfolds before you; every piece of your belongings thoughtfully arranged in the space, a harmonious blend of familiarity and newfound warmth. A cream-colored box takes center stage on the bed, bearing the elegant letters ‘Ariat,’ and you can't help but feel a rush of intrigue coursing through you.

As you lift the lid, a pair of exquisite brown boots adorned with intricate stitching and a touch of regal purple captures your gaze. Instantly, a wellspring of emotion threatens to spill over, and you find tears welling up in your eyes as your fingers delicately trace the supple contours of the leather.

The unexpected gift of boots sends your heart into a joyous swell, an exquisite gesture that leaves you touched. Overwhelmed with gratitude, you make your way downstairs, only to discover your sister and Soo-ah sharing the terrace.

“You got these for me?” Clutching the boots in your hands, you can't help but show them to your sister and Soo-ah, your face adorned with tears of pure joy. 

Soo-ah and your sister share conspiratorial smiles as Jessi unveils not just the boots but also a classic dark brown cowboy hat. “Now that you live here, you need those, and also this,” Jessi declares. You accept the hat, its simplicity resonating with you, and a genuine smile spreads across your face as you hold it in your hands.

Overwhelmed, you stammer through your gratitude, “This is too much. It’s not even my birthday. And you did all this for me? Also my room?” 

A choked sob escapes, your emotions a mix of gratitude and sheer happiness.

“Yeah. You deserve a bigger room too!” Your sister exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug that feels like a warm embrace of love and acceptance.

Overwhelmed by the unexpected warmth of their gesture, you can hardly believe the kindness and thoughtfulness they've poured into making you feel at home.

As you and your sister embark on a journey to the paddock near the Bell Ranch, the air is filled with a sense of purpose, the truck's engine humming in harmony with the anticipation of nourishing the cattle with extra hay.

As you draw near, the figures of Jungkook and Yoongi come into focus, silhouetted against the backdrop of the sprawling ranch. The boundary fence becomes a canvas for their hard work, their foreheads glistening with sweat and hats serving as valiant protectors against the relentless assault of the scorching sun.

You bound out of the car, adorned in your newfound boots and hat, the sensation of the leather against your skin adding a touch of invincibility to your step. The prairie wind whispers around you, playing with the edges of your hat, as if welcoming you into this new chapter of ranch life.

Observing the unspoken tension between Jessi and Jungkook, a myriad of questions flutter in your mind, but you resist voicing them just yet. 

Your sister redirects your focus, breaking the silent inquiry with a practical suggestion, “I'll take the wheel while you stand in the load of the truck, guiding the hay distribution. Deal?”

You agree to your sister's plan, a subtle unease crawls over you, intensified by the lingering gazes of Yoongi and Jungkook. 

A fleeting concern flits through your mind – is there a flaw in your attire that's drawn their attention?

“Nice boots and hat!” Jungkook's enthusiastic shout reaches you from the fence, accompanied by a sly smirk and an appreciative lift of his eyebrows. Yoongi, on the other hand, acknowledges you with a subtle nod, his gaze holding a mysterious intensity that leaves you intrigued and slightly puzzled.

“Thank you,” gratitude echoes from your lips as you balance atop the car, skillfully pushing chucks of hay out while your sister maneuvers the truck with deliberate precision. 

Jungkook's voice carries over the sound of hammering as he secures a fence post into the ground, his biceps flexing beneath the snug fabric of his t-shirt, “Are you joining the party tomorrow?” 

“You bet!” Your sister's voice resounds from the car, the windows rolled down, carrying her enthusiasm through the sun-soaked air.

As you prepare for the party at the guys' ranch, your hands eagerly discover the lovely dress that Jimin gifted you during his visit to the city. You pull it out, your fingers delicately tracing the intricate flowers adorning the fabric, knowing instinctively that this is the perfect choice for tonight.

In no time, you transform into a vision of elegance, applying a subtle, natural layer of makeup that enhances your features. A pair of low heels elegantly complete the ensemble, adding a touch of grace to complement the beauty of your chosen dress.

You step out into the yard to join your sister and the girls, all of you radiating a collective aura of elegance. Jessi stuns in a baby blue summer dress, a perfect match for her vibrant personality. Soo-ah confidently rocks a short, red mini dress that accentuates her curves with subtle allure. Ara's tall figure is accentuated by a flowing, regal purple satin dress. Ha-rin opts for a chic midi-length black dress, exuding a timeless charm. Together, you form a stylish and captivating ensemble ready for the night ahead.

“Is everyone set?” 

Your sister's anticipation fills the air as she swings open the car door, taking command of the driver's seat. The excitement is palpable as you and the others pile into the truck, eagerly embarking on the journey toward the Bell ranch.

As you pull up, a sea of cars and pickups fills the yard, resonating with the lively hum of distant music and the chatter of the party. The festive ambiance hits you the moment you swing open the car door, setting the stage for a night of celebration.

Anticipation courses through you as you approach the lively gathering, eager to unravel the mysteries of the party unfolding. Yet, amidst the pulsating music and animated crowd, it's the mere prospect of locking eyes with Jimin that quickens your heartbeat, infusing an electrifying rhythm to your excitement.

You step into their abode, a wave of conviviality envelopes you, the air resonating with the symphony of laughter. Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok form a relaxed quartet, engaged in easy banter, their beers in hand. 

Your eyes catch the vet, Namjoon, accompanied by a stranger with shoulders broad as mountains, his laughter infectious. Amidst the female company, drawn close to Jungkook, the atmosphere pulsates with an undeniable magnetism.

As your gaze collides with Jimin's, a soft and profound smile graces his lips, causing an inexplicable flutter within you. It's astonishing how this man effortlessly wields the power to turn your insides into a tender mush with just a simple yet enchanting smile.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Jimin's warm voice resonates as he clasps your hand, a surge of electric energy coursing through your veins. You return his gaze with a smile, grateful for the invitation and the electrifying connection that lingers between you both.

“Oh, you're wearing the dress. You’re stunning,” he appraises you, his gaze tracing the contours of your figure, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. A subtle lick of his tongue adds a hint of mischief. Your legs momentarily waver, yet determined, you stride beside Jimin, delving deeper into their vibrant home.

The room exudes warmth, a comfortable fusion of wood and inviting furniture strategically placed. A sprawling couch beckons, adorned with a small table, a TV nearby. A grand round dining table, surrounded by wooden chairs boasting vibrant red upholstery, catches your eye. 

As you take in the scene, a piano near the couch intrigues you, sparking a curiosity you're eager to explore. 

Before you can inquire, the music volume surges, inundating the room with lively beats, setting the tone for the night.

As the lively tunes envelop the room, a spontaneous dance floor emerges, and Jimin gracefully sweeps you into a slow dance. Despite any reservations about your dancing skills, Jimin effortlessly dissolves them with his reassuring presence. His own mastery on the dance floor is evident, accentuated by the perfect fit of his pants and the tantalizing view offered by a slightly unbuttoned shirt, teasingly revealing his collarbones. 

In the rhythm of the music, you find yourself lost in the enchantment of the moment, guided by Jimin's skillful moves and the magnetic connection between you both.

With a deft twirl, he sends your dress swirling around you, a kaleidoscope of colors catching the ambient light. As you gracefully land in his arms, his hands intuitively find their place on your hips, guiding and swaying your body in perfect harmony with the pulsating rhythm of the music. 

As the music envelops you both, your heart races in tandem with the intoxicating rhythm. 

Jimin is so close that his scent permeates the air, clouding your senses and setting your mind and body ablaze. Desires surge within you, an undeniable yearning that intensifies with every breath, a silent plea echoing in the pulsating energy of the moment. 

You crave him, an insatiable hunger burning through your veins.

You nestle against his shoulder, inhaling the heady essence that is uniquely Jimin, an electric current courses through you, awakening a primal desire. His intoxicating scent envelops your senses, igniting a passionate flame that flickers within the deepest recesses of your being down to your core. 

A soft, involuntary moan escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming allure he holds over you.

In this enchanting moment, cocooned in the tender embrace of Jimin, it's as if the world has melted away, leaving just the two of you in a dance of intimacy. Yet, the pulsating energy of the party swirls around you, and as you lift your gaze from Jimin's shoulder, you catch a glimpse of your sister entwined in a dance with Jungkook. Their connection is palpable and sparks igniting an unspoken dialogue between them, drawing your attention to them.

You nestle your head into Jimin's chest, seeking refuge in the cocoon of warmth and strength that surrounds you. The rise and fall of his pectorals and shoulders provide a comforting rhythm, his touch on your hips guiding your every move with a gentle precision. With each sway, you're attuned to the reassuring thud of his heart, a steady drumbeat against your face.

This is pure bliss, a moment suspended in time where the world fades away, leaving only the warmth of Jimin's embrace cocooning you. In his arms, everything feels perfect, an oasis of serenity where the outside world ceases to exist. The notion of staying like this forever whispers through your mind, tempting you with the idea that in this moment, nothing else matters.

An unexpected interruption pulls you from the enchanting dance with Jimin as you feel a gentle poke at your shoulders. Raising your eyes from the comforting haven of Jimin's shoulders, you discover his brother, Jungkook, extending his hand toward you. 

A soft smile graces your lips as your gaze momentarily lingers on Jimin before shifting back to Jungkook, acknowledging his presence with a subtle nod.

“May I have a dance?”Jungkook extends a hand toward you. Raising an eyebrow, you chuckle at the unexpectedness of the situation. Jimin, rolling his eyes playfully, releases his hold on your hips. The absence of his touch sends a chill through you, making you realize how accustomed you've become to his warmth. 

Despite the surprise, you accept Jungkook's invitation, placing your hand in his with a playful grin.

You allow him to whisk you into the swirling throng of dancers. A swift glance around the room reveals Jimin now twirling your sister on the dance floor, and Yoongi seated at a table observing Soo-ah's graceful moves as she dances with Hoseok.

“Beautiful dress,” Jungkook's compliment resonates as he gracefully twirls you around, mirroring the enchanting moves Jimin bestowed upon you moments before.

Gratitude colors your smile as you share, “Thank you. Jimin got it for me.” 

Pressed against Jungkook's chest, you sense the rapid thud of his heart beneath your hands, leaving you curious about the unspoken rhythms pulsing through him.

“He has good taste. I actually wanted to ask you something,” his words drip with a blend of confidence and mischief, the edges of his smile flirting with a smirk. Tingling sensations cascade through your body as he hints at something more, leaving you on the precipice of anticipation.

“How’s Jessi been?”

His unexpected question catches you off guard, and as you pull away, you're momentarily flabbergasted. The realization of why he's asking dawns on you, and a laugh escapes your lips, dancing with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Happy,” happiness fills your voice as you whisper the word, swaying in rhythm with him to the beat of the music.

“Good. I talked to her after you left, you know?” His words hang in the air, and you catch a mischievous glint in his eyes. He smiles, chuckling softly, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine as he leans in, speaking softly into your ear after dropping the bombshell.

He did? You didn’t know that. Surprise colors your voice as you inquire, leaning in slightly to catch every detail. 

“What do you mean you talked to her?” You press, your curiosity piqued, eager for him to unravel the mystery he's hinted at.

“I just told her she shouldn’t be so hard on you and that you’re sisters and that’s important, you know?”

Heartwarming warmth floods your chest at his words, and you find yourself captivated by his genuine concern for your relationship with Jessi. His comforting smile, revealing a hint of sincerity, assures you that he genuinely cares about the bonds that connect you both.

“Ah, so you’re the one I should thank,” amused by the unexpected ally, you laugh, realizing Jungkook's subtle intervention played a part in smoothing things over.

“No, I just—” His words hang in the air, but you swiftly interject, unwilling to let him complete his sentence. 

“You've been spending more time with Jessi, haven't you?” You pry, a knowing smile playing on your lips. It's amusing how effortlessly he crumbles, a subtle dance of emotions flickering across his face. He tries to conceal it, but the transparency of his expressions betrays a tale he's unwilling to share.

He appears to be fumbling for words, caught in the delicate dance of secrecy. Perhaps he's reluctant to share, so you playfully add, “I've noticed you haven't batted an eye at any other girls at this party,” a teasing smile dancing on your lips. His reaction is priceless, a momentary lapse where he feels laid bare and exposed.

Silence hangs in the air, and you decide to let him off the hook, allowing him a moment of peace. However, you can't help but find it endearing that your sister wields such a powerful influence over him. There's a touch of amusement in the revelation, a whimsical twist in the dynamics that brings a smile to your lips.

Abruptly, the music mellows, drawing your focus to the soulful melody of a piano gracefully dancing through the air.

Unexpectedly, the enchanting notes of a piano fill the air, and you're startled to discover that Jimin is the maestro behind the captivating melody. His fingers delicately caress the piano keys, producing a hauntingly beautiful melody that captivates the entire room. 

The lively dance floor comes to a hushed standstill as the mesmerizing notes draw everyone toward chairs and the couch, creating an impromptu audience enchanted by Jimin's musical prowess.

His fingers glide with exquisite grace across the keys, coaxing a melody that feels both familiar and utterly enchanting. Drawn to the magnetic pull of the music, you find a seat on the couch, positioning yourself close to Jimin, eager to immerse yourself fully in the magic he's weaving with each delicate keystroke.

As he plays, he transcends the ordinary, bathed in an ethereal glow, his tousled blonde hair cascading gently around his face. With closed eyes, he immerses himself in the music, fingers gracefully pirouetting on the keys. A nervous nibble on his lip is followed by a rhythmic sway of his head, perfectly attuned to the piano's cadence. 

Then, with a voice as soft as a whispered secret, he begins to sing, weaving familiar lyrics into the air, each note carrying a tender reassurance that wraps around you like a warm embrace.

A hushed reverence blankets the entire room, each note from the piano and every word that escapes Jimin's lips a mesmerizing symphony, weaving a spellbinding silence that captivates the collective breath of everyone present.

In the tender embrace of the piano's melody, Jimin serenades the room with the soulful lyrics of a John Legend song, each word an intimate confession that resonates with the universal longing for acceptance and love. 

“‘Cause all of me loves all of you. Love all your curves and all your edges. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you,” his voice, a velvet caress, turns the lyrics into the very essence of romance materialized, casting a spell on every heart in the room.

Your heart dances to an erratic rhythm within your chest, intoxicated by a flood of emotions that defy definition, a kaleidoscope of love and sentiments swirling through your being.

He effortlessly continues to serenade, his voice a sublime melody that transcends beauty. Each note carries the weight of raw emotion, a soulful outpouring that echoes the depths of his soul and leaves you spellbound, as if he's baring his heart for the entire world to witness.

Emotion swells within you, threatening to spill over in the form of glistening tears, yet you valiantly resist the urge, determined to savor every precious moment of Jimin's soul-stirring performance. 

His voice, a gentle caress, and the delicate piano notes intertwine, creating a tapestry of emotions that resonates deep within your being.

As the final notes gracefully fade into the air, a thunderous applause erupts, reverberating through the room like a shared heartbeat. The resounding cheers and admiration affirm what you already knew — Jimin's musical prowess is a revelation, an ever-unfolding enchantment that leaves everyone, including yourself, captivated and yearning for more.

Jimin rises from the piano, the resonance of his final chord lingering in the air like a sweet melody. He strides purposefully toward you, his fingers gently entwining with yours. A magnetic pull between your hands beckons you to a silent adventure, and as your eyes lock onto the point where your skin meets his, he murmurs, “Please, come with me.”

With a determined grip, he whisks you away into the cool night air, attempting to drown out the exuberant hollers and shouts of the gathering behind. Despite your efforts, a subtle blush creeps onto your cheeks, responding to the playful symphony of sounds that trails behind you.

Beyond the backdoor, on their terrace, he envelops you, arms forming a gentle yet assertive barrier against the wall, creating an intimate space where the world outside ceases to exist.

Your breath quickens, and your thoughts race to catch up with the whirlwind of sensations. Time seems to accelerate as his lips draw near—is this the moment he's about to capture you in a kiss?

His scent, intoxicating and divine, envelops you as his lips playfully graze your cheek. A breathy sigh escapes your lips as he leans in close, his voice a tantalizing murmur in your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

“Brothers talk,” his hushed words in your ear send an electric jolt through your entire body. Your mouth falls agape, a rush of warmth flooding your core, and your heart races at a dizzying 200 beats per minute. Wait— did he just say that?

The air outside suddenly feels stifling, as if the temperature has spiked, and every breath you take is saturated with Jimin's intoxicating musky scent, leaving you deliciously dizzy and struggling to catch your breath.

His words hang in the air, a provocative challenge that leaves you breathless. The danger of his statement lingers, creating a charged atmosphere filled with uncertainty and anticipation.

“I know you slept with Jungkook,”  as his words caress your ear, you remember the look on his face when he saw you pressed up against the barn with Jungkook’s dick deep inside your cunt, and the thought sends a jolt through your entire being. Somehow you feel guilty, you don’t know if it’s because he witnessed something he definitely shouldn’t have or because you just shouldn’t have slept with Jungkook in the first place. 

His figure presses against you, and you struggle to maintain composure, your heart's rapid beats echoing the intensity of the moment. The fine line between vulnerability and acceptance blurs, and you grapple with the consequences of his whispered revelation.

He positions one of his solid thighs between yours, applying a subtle yet deliberate pressure against your core, causing an involuntary gasp to escape your lips. The electric tension in the air intensifies, as you find yourself ensnared in the grip of a desire that threatens to unravel all sense of restraint.

And in a breathy whisper, he confesses in your ear, “And I don't mind. I like you.” 

His words, a symphony of desire, reverberate through your being, finally acknowledging the unspoken connection that has woven its way between you.

With a tender touch, you draw his upper body back, craving an unhindered view of his face. Your eyes lock with his, passion swirling in those blown-out orbs. The perfection of this man captivates you. 

“I like you too, Jimin,” you confess in a breathless murmur, your words tinged with a subtle lick of anticipation.

In the charged silence, your eyes lock in an unspoken understanding, the air thick with desire that could be sliced with a knife. 

You find yourself entranced by the sight of his soft, plush lips, and he mirrors the sentiment, slowly closing the gap between you. Inch by agonizing inch, the magnetic pull intensifies, promising a moment of electric desire. However, the spell is abruptly broken as the door swings open, startling you both and freezing his movements in their tracks.

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of you, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips. “Oops, my bad,” he admits, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As the tension dissipates into laughter, the night seems to lighten around you. Jimin's laughter intertwines with yours, creating a symphony of joy. In the darkness, his eyes sparkle with mirth, and Jungkook, making a swift exit, leaves you and Jimin bathed in the glow of shared amusement.

“Should we go back inside?” 

Jimin's gaze lingers on you, his question hanging in the air like a promise. His soft smile invites you to rejoin the lively atmosphere inside, and with a subtle step back, he extends a hand, a silent invitation that speaks volumes, allowing you to catch your breath in the sweet aftermath of intimacy.

You draw in a breath, letting the weight of the night settle on your shoulders before exhaling a sigh of surrender. 

“Yeah,” you respond, the word carrying the echo of unspoken thoughts and the unexplored tension lingering in the air.

You're gearing up Marshmallow for a ride with Jessi, the anticipation building between you two as you prepare for a sisterly escapade, just the rhythmic sounds of hooves and shared laughter ahead.

Jessi swiftly readies Cinnamon, her determination matching the spirited horse, while you expertly secure the bridle on Marshmallow. Together, you step outside the barn, ready for the open trail that awaits, the promise of adventure lingering in the air.

“I’ll show you a river that’s close by,” your sister's eyes light up with excitement as she swings her leg over Cinnamon's sleek body, her enthusiasm contagious. Eagerly, you mirror her actions, mounting Marshmallow with a sense of anticipation, ready to discover the hidden wonders she promises by the nearby river.

Your horses pound the ground beneath them as you gallop together, the exhilarating rush of wind tousling your neatly braided hair. 

The rhythmic percussion of hoofbeats serenades your ears, echoing amidst towering trees that frame the distant silhouette of majestic mountains. Following Jessi's lead, the breathtaking revelation of a picturesque river emerges, its beauty captivating your senses with an awe-inspiring allure.

The expansive river unfolds before you, adorned with subtle cliffs in the distance. As you guide your horses down to the water's edge, the radiant sun bathes you in its warm embrace. Dismounting, you find a peaceful spot on the grass, surrounded by the tranquil symphony of nature's melody.

Jessi turns to you, her eyes filled with warmth, and confesses, “I’ve really missed you, you know?”

You respond with a gentle smile, “I’ve missed you too.”

As she absentmindedly picks at the grass, the horses peacefully grazing nearby, she continues, “Not just since you came back. I've missed you since your dad took you away.”

Her words tug at your heart, resonating with the pain you've long carried since your dad took you away. It's a shared ache, a silent acknowledgment of the wounds that time couldn't completely heal.

In a tender embrace, you whisper through tear-filled eyes, “But we're together now,” sealing the unspoken promise of shared moments, mending the fragments of time lost.

Her smile brightens as she leans into your sideways hug, asking, “Yes. I was actually wondering if there's any project on the ranch you'd like to take on. Anything that sparks your interest and passion?”

Excitement bubbles within you as you pull away from her, sharing, “Oh, yeah, there is something. Sometime ago, Jimin mentioned those wild horses Yoongi's working on. I think that could be a fascinating project.” Your smile radiates with genuine enthusiasm.

Your sister returns your smile, saying, “Yeah, just talk to Yoongi, and when the wild horses come back, you can go with him.”

“I also long for our time together, just staying close and catching up,” you express with tears welling in your eyes, your voice carrying the weight of genuine emotion.

“I’d like that too,” she responds warmly, enveloping you in another heartfelt hug.

Time seems to waltz away as you sit in companionable silence beside your sister, the rhythmic grazing of your horses creating a soothing melody. It's only when Jessi finally breaks the tranquil stillness that you realize how deeply immersed you both were in the moment.

A knowing smile plays on your lips as Jessi gently broaches the subject, “I noticed you and Jimin,” she starts, and you respond with a subtle nod.

A playful poke to your shoulder accompanies Jessi's words, “He's genuinely into you,” she declares, her smile carrying a warmth that hints at her approval of whatever there’s blossoming between you and Jimin. 

With a light laugh, you confess, “I like him too,” accompanied by a gentle rub to the spot on your shoulder where Jessi playfully poked you.

“But it's still kind of strange, you know? I mean, I slept with his brother. Won't it just make things awkward?” You sigh, laying bare the complexities of your thoughts. As much as you're drawn to Jimin and appreciate his assurance that it doesn't bother him, the idea of ‘brothers talk’ lingers in your mind— whatever that means. You're determined to avoid any comparisons, not just for their sake but for yours as well.

Jessi bursts into laughter, her high, infectious giggles prompting you to turn your head toward her. “Okay, I partly understand. But come on, they're only half-brothers. We're all just people here; it's not like it's something incestuous or anything.”

You sigh, conceding that she might be right. 

Then, you catch on to her words. ‘We’re all people here,’ you repeat, leaning in closer to her. 

“You and Jungkook?” You inquire, a glint of understanding in your eyes, and she responds with a knowing smile, “We’re just friends though. I’m still seeing Namjoon.”

“So you don’t think it’s weird that I slept with Jungkook?” You inquire, genuine curiosity lacing your words.

“No. Jungkook has slept with so many people, why would I care?” Jessi laughs, and after a moment of contemplation, you offer a nonchalant shrug, conceding that she might have a point.

Nestling into her embrace, a gentle sigh escapes your lips, “Thank you.”

Her gaze meets yours, confusion etched across her features, “What for?”

A gentle chuckle escapes your lips, and a surge of warmth fills your chest, “For being my incredible sister.”

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Live Blog: Masquerade

So, been a few and we pre-gamed for this one extra special. I will be transparent in that I have a personal history with SA and quid pro quo sexual abuse as well as physical and domestic abuse. My partner has warned me prior on the larger portions of the shock value Medrano uses, but we both are not really sure how I will react to this.

Amazon has added an explicit warning for sexual assault to the episode that was not previously there. So good on them for that.

The audio between Keith David and Blake Roman feels like they were done in different parts of the world.

Tell not show. Husk just says all the things.

Angel Dust is shrill. I’ve never described a human being as shrill, but this vocal performance is shrill and I wish he never spoke again.

WTF was that animation as Charlie kicks her legs.

Valentino could be such an interesting character, but he lacks any depth.

So Charlie is just an idiot.

Blake completely loses the Angel Dust voice. He’s not even in character and the only thing he has to act with is his voice. You have to stay in character to be a voice actor.

The whole scene in the dressing room lacks any weight. Everything is so sudden and contrived. Charlie fucks up the shoot so Valentino has an excuse to abuse Angel Dust and it’s so obvious where the direction of events are going that it isn’t even emotionally investing. And it’s a testament to the fact that I was a pilot fan and invested in where Medrano would take the show to now saying I just don’t care.

“Just don’t hurt her” Where was the inclination that would happened. Angel Dust going off on Charlie was actually well written, but the fact that it is supposed to be seen as insincere ruins it.

The song has the most graphic depiction of sexual abuse and yet the whole message is confused.

Angel Dust is sexually abused and proceeds to Sexually harass Husk.

So Charlie ruined his day, but let’s blame Husk.

Why are we supposed to believe Husk is judging Angel Dust? He’s an alcoholic.

Angel Dust is living in self harm with his promiscuity and drug abuse, and that isn’t supposed to be who he actually is, it’s supposed to be his persona` to get by, but that feels like we are getting a whole new character introduced 4 episodes in.

Loser Baby is the worst thing I have ever heard musically and lyrically.

I stand by what I said about Loser Baby. It completely lacks any depth or emotional processing. It’s just two people who are making excuses for themselves and saying “well, I’m not the only one.”

So this is the shortest list I have because so much of it cannot be bullet points. Animation wise it lacks weight. The characters being hurt doesn’t feel real it lacks the sense of gravity needed for the violence to feel mature. This is less intense than Tom and Jerry. On the other hand, Blake Roman’s vocal performance is awful. He can’t keep his voice in character when he tries to have any amount of emotion, but the vocal deliveries that at least are in his character range are on par with Whitey from 8 Crazy Nights. It is ear splitting. Aside from that, the transparency of how Medrano is obviously ticking boxes to get to the emotional beats she planned, actual nuance and depth be damned. I just don’t care about what is happening, which actually is the only reason this isn’t so triggering. This episode revels in sexual abuse fetishism and it is equally as defensive about it. The signs pointing at Angel Dust are repulsive and to then have it set against the backdrop of “You aren’t alone so why bother changing” is appalling. I stand by the statement that this is group therapy without the therapy. The whole idea behind the group therapy setting is that you can learn from others on how better to help yourself, but this online generation has seemed to think that the group part was what made the therapy effective. In reality it is very easy for a group setting to become a cesspool of covert narcissism.

On the other hand, I don’t get how anyone could have thought this was about abuse of any kind. Because the whole episode treats sexual abuse as a joke from the beginning to the end. The only time it is taken seriously, it is whiplash. Angel Dust telling Husk how he wishes to become so ruined and broken that his abuser wouldn’t want him anymore is so heavy and abruptly serious when every other moment of abuse is either so cartoonishly done like the dressing room, or is played as sexy or a joke. It is a joke in the script from how poorly written the pornos are (which its shown Angel doesn’t want to participate in, but it’s made to be comedic so that aspect fades real fast) to how unimportant it is that Angel is literally attempted to be drugged.

And Charlie has officially become the worst character. I didn’t even see Charlie as a character, it’s very obvious where Medrano sources her inspiration. Just like how Lute is Peridot, Charlie is just Harley Quinn, except she has none of the charm and all of the annoyance. Which goes back to what I said before.

I think the worst part is that I don’t care. I really just don’t care because the characters just don’t care, and even when they do, I don’t know them enough to invest in them emotionally. This is not at all on the series being 8 episodes, this is exactly how I feel watching Helluva Boss, whom Vivienne is making a season 3 for as we speak. So the limitations are not why this series is so painfully shallow, it’s a reflection of a creator who lacks depth as a human being. Who has no life experience to draw from to really empathize with the characters and craft around it an emotionally visceral narrative. This is someone who lives their life as a simulation, pressing the right buttons, making the right choices to get the predictable outcome. If you told me Vivienne Medrano was actually a prototype android AI, I would believe you. This is how a computer thinks humans feel, even the abrupt changes in emotion is simulation of an AI program. Things move unnaturally fast in a computer, hours are like years in terms of social media. So I don’t think anyone is surprised that this feels like a script written and directed by ChatGPT.

This episode I didn’t find triggering. The episode itself does not affect me. What does trigger me is knowing the kind of person needed to make an episode like this in the first place. I don’t think anyone should necessarily be banned from telling any sort of story, but the byproduct of a machine and internet algorithms should never be allowed to tell human stories.

-20/10

[safetycar-restart]

hiiii!! my brain is rotting bc of last weekends race with Logan and im on my period so thinking about it is making me sad but, how do you think his dom (and oscar?) make him feel less upset cuz seeing him have to stay out there for so many laps by himself made me cry. he was doing so well :((. i think that to him it jus kinda reinforces the idea that he doesn’t really deserve a good dom (which ofc he does, he’s so perfect) but it hurts his soul sm. idk tho, I’m really tired, xx 🎾

Seeing Logan just sitting there for so many laps was so sad!!! Poor baby!!! I’m also assuming this is d/s au since you mentioned Logan having a Dom. And wow I’ve missed writing for these two!!! Poly!logan/oscar has such a special place in my heart (also anything Logan has a special place in my heart).

After Logan crashed out, you seemed to be the only one in the garage who actually cared where he was. You knew Logan had gotten out of the car, but no one had gone to fetch him, and the next shot of that area showed the car had been removed and Logan was no where in sight.

The team explained to you that there wasn’t an easy way to fetch him from that location, and seemed happy to just let him stay wherever he was until the race was over. You couldn’t believe they weren’t more concerned.

Though you knew you were a little biased. As Logan’s Dom, the thought of him all alone in the cold somewhere after he crashed out was terrifying. Your sub was cold and sore and alone and there was nothing you could do.

Logan, meanwhile, is having the worst time ever. He feels so useless and sad, having crashed out once more. And he just… he needs his Dom. He needs to be held and told he’s still a good sub.

And the longer he’s sat all alone, the worse he feels. He just wants to be alone with you and Oscar. That’s it. That’s all he wants.

He can’t stop himself from thinking about all those things, because he’s all alone. His thoughts spiral and all he can think is how Oscar is still out there racing and how you’d be much better off if you didn’t have to deal with him and just had Oscar, just had someone who could actually race.

By the time Logan eventually gets back, he’s soaked from the rain and shivering and so so close to just breaking down because he’s so sad.

The moment you see him, you just pull him right into your arms, shocked at how cold he is and immediately bringing him back to his driver room to warm up and get him into some comfy clothes. It’s a testament to how scared Williams are of you that they don’t even try to speak to Logan. They know better.

To your surprise, the moment you have Logan alone he’s apologising? Saying he’s so sorry he’s such a useless sub and he’ll do better and he just needs another chance.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Logan gets left out in the cold and yet he’s the one apologising?

You try to reassure him, promising him that you love him and he will always be your sub, that being your sub will never ever be contingent on performance. Never.

Just as Logan starts to calm, Oscar arrives and he wants blood.

Oscar had heard about how Logan was left out in the cold and the moment the race was over he was sprinting to the Williams hospitality to find him. The moment he’s there, he’s grabbing Logan and pulling him into his arms, holding Logan so tight that he can barely breath.

“They left you out there,” Oscar mumbles, “they fucking left you out there. How dare they??”

Logan relaxes into Oscar, sagging into his arms out of pure relief that Oscar isn’t mad at him.

“It’s fine,” logan says against Oscar, “I deserved it.”

Oscar pulls away, pouting, “no, no you didn’t. Don’t say that, do you understand me? Don’t say that!”

As it turns out, you don’t even need to give Logan the talking to about his self worth, your other sub is doing it instead.

Oscar goes on a tangent, telling Logan he deserves so much better than how he was treated and how everyone makes mistakes and one day it will be his day and if he dares to suggest that he deserved it one more time, Oscar will will hit him.

Once Oscar is satisfied with telling off Logan, he turns to you and asks if the three of you can finally go back to the hotel so that he can suck Logan’s dick.

[copiousloverofcopia]

UNHOLY FUCK Ghesties!

Hello, how are you all?

I know I have kind of absent on here a bit, but I have a lot going on in my personal life as well as just being an adult with responsibilities, so the struggle is real.

Thank you all so much for hangin' around (pun intended) and sticking in there with me...

As a thank you, here is the next chapter of Death and Flowers, featuring Copia and my OC Sister Ollie.

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Death & Flowers

It hadn't been serious, it never was with him. While Papa was suave and Ollie enjoyed their time together it wasn't meant to be. She knew it wasn't something meant to last…something permanent but—here she was. It was only one missed pill and life forever changed.

Chapter 13: The Little Things Give You Away

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven't started yet? Start from the beginning HERE!

Read below the cut!

"You have got to be fucking kidding me Dew!" Cirrus growled, tripping over the ghoul's guitar case. Her white eyes, burning as she glared at him across the room. The rest of the ghouls, all huddled together for practice and tuning their instruments while shooting the breeze. 

"Maybe you should watch where you step girly." Dew snickered. The room filled with "oos", echoing off the walls as the Ghoulette stomped over to him. Dew, chuckling to himself on the floor before she gave him a good slap on the back of the head.

"Hey! Why I oughta…" he growled, teeth bared and tail swishing angrily behind him. 

"I'm here, I'm here." Copia called out as he erupted into the room. Flustered looking, but ready to get the practice going. Hoping that he might distract himself from all he had just experienced. Dedicated to playing the part of ignorance until he had more to go on.

"Finally." Dew scoffed, the little gremlin rubbing the aching spot on his skull. Copia paid him no mind. Too lost in his own thoughts to be shook by any of Dew’s petty commentary. It was clear to the ghouls from the moment he entered, that Copia had things on his mind. 

Only Aether and Cumulus knew the truth. That whatever distracted him, it was more than just impending fatherhood and a world tour. Aether, wondering what was learned that the Cardinal was desperately attempting to keep buried down in front of the others. For now, everyone was waiting and Copia knew he had business to attend to. He grabbed the mic, shooting a look over to Aether. An acknowledgement that there was much to discuss between them, and with that practice began.

It was a couple hours into their session, and the ghouls were having an absolute blast. Practicing their chords and notes. Not a care in the world other than being the best they could for each other and, most importantly, Ghost. The music was melodic and hauntingly powerful. A testament to the talents contained within them. 

Copia was more reserved, still heavy with his thoughts. Though you could no longer tell by looking at him. Within just a couple of songs, he was debaucherously swaying his hips and singing away. Melting into his performance like butter against a hot knife. The ghouls were in absolute awe of him. If there were ever any reservations about the Cardinal taking up the mantle that Terzo had held so magnificently before him, all of that had now been washed away. 

Copia was truly in his element. A shame that had it not been for the tragedy befalling the Emeritus sons, he might not have been considered for Ghost. Afterall, only those who were of the bloodline had had the honor. Copia knew differently—there was Emeritus blood running in his veins, even if only a few others knew it. 

It was in the middle of one of the last few songs that he noticed Ollie. Stammering through the lyrics as he saw her face. She had snuck in and managed to tuck herself into the back of the room. Eyes wide and a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth while watching him. 

Copia was mesmerizing and even enigmatic. Her presence made him more feral. Wildly prancing around the ghouls like the cat who caught the canary. Showing himself off to her. Ollie, delightfully clapping at his every antic. Watching with wonder and joy in her eyes. When practice was finally over, he rushed back to her—panting as he took her into his arms and held her close.

"Such a nice surprise to see your face here. Though I'd prefer you rest." He told her, his hand gently gliding over her belly. 

"Cope…I just got the ok to be up and about—you can bet I'm not gonna waste the opportunity to come see you all perform.” she replied as the ghouls all began packing everything up. 

“This one has a lot of talent, that's for sure. Hopefully the kiddo takes after him, eh?” Mountain said, giving a jab to Copia before passing by. Drumsticks in hand and towering over everyone else in the room. Copia and Ollie gave one another a slight smile with his words in response to his words as Aether and Cumulus approached them. 

The two ghouls, trying to hide the worry from their faces. Waiting patiently as Dew and Cirrus passed by them. Leaving only the four of them standing there in the emptiness of the Hall. A few moments of silence passed before any of them spoke. Ollie, finally breaking the quiet between them with a question. 

“Wha–what’s going on?” Ollie asked, looking back and forth between Copia and the ghouls. It was clear the three of them knew something that she didn’t. The feeling was beginning to gnaw at her stomach as she waited for them to respond. 

“Ah–” Copia stumbled around to answer before Aether chimed in.

“Cardinal, what did you hear?”

“What’s going on Copia?” Cumulus asked, completely confused as well, but sensing the ominous tone between them.  Copia took a quick look around the room, making sure no prying eyes or ears were around to witness them before speaking. 

“I can’t say for sure Aeth…but it seems there is a conspiracy to overthrow the Emeritus bloodline. For the Papacy to be used in a way it was not intended…and it seems I am being used as a pawn in that—the ghouls I hear are too. A scapegoat perhaps for the death of the brothers.” Copia explained, though still unsure of it all. Aether, Cumulus, and Ollie felt the sense of doom creeping in.  

“But Cope…your…” Ollie whispered. 

“I know—according to Saltarian, I should never have known about Nihil. He was furious with Sister for telling me.”

“Nihil?” Aether asked, the three others preparing for what could possibly be said next.

“Nihil is my father.” Copia confessed. Aether rubbing his head, swirling with the implications. “I wasn’t supposed to know…and I think it has something to do with Saltarian. I just—just can’t say for sure yet.”

“What are we going to do?” Cumulus asked, her tail tucked between her legs and her eyes heavy with tears.

“We fight back.” Aether chimed in, taking Cumulus’s hand in his. “Cardinal, what do you need us to do?”

 “The two of us will get the ghouls ready. I need them all sniffing around to find some answers…particularly with Saltarian and his three men—but be careful we don’t know what they are capable of. Cumulus you take Ollie back to the suites. I want her kept away from anything that might go down.” 

“Right. We got this.” Cumulus asserted, determined to help in any way she could. 

“Copia?” Ollie said, her hand gripping onto him tight as she cradled her belly. The anxiety, building up steadily inside her. 

“It’s gonna be ok Ollie I promise…but for now we are still in danger. Especially you and the baby.”

“Yeah, and you know who else—” Aether said as he gritted his teeth. “Nihil.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

From the moment they left, Copia could tell they were close. Both him and Aether, walking steadily down the hall. Their steps filled with intention though they remained composed. Hoping they wouldn't give away their intentions to anyone who might be keeping watch. Just as they reached the double doors leading to the ghoul’s den, the chaotic dwelling of Hell spawn, someone grabbed Copia by the cassock. Yanking him off into one of the rooms used by siblings for prayer and solitude—among other things. It was Sister Imperator, placing her hand over her son’s mouth as Aether tried to follow them inside. 

“Ghoul, this doesn’t concern you.” she snipped. Copia removed her hand from his mouth, motioning for Aether to leave to the two of them and continue on without him.

“It’s ok Aeth. I will be with you shortly…please go.” he begged him. Aether nodded, reluctantly following his orders and taking off into the den. 

“What is it you want, Sister?” he asked her.

“C—I need to tell you something. I should have long before now.”

“What else could you possibly have to say?”

“I fear I have put your life in more danger. You see there is someone…someone who wants the Emeritus bloodline to end and—”

“And I am the last of them?” Copia asked, trying to appear as if this was the first time anything had occurred to him. Careful to not let Sister know he knew anything other than what was heard from her own lips. 

“It’s not just that, you see they’ve always known about you. The problem is not that now you know and because of that I have put you at risk and, unexpectedly, the baby.”

“The baby?” Copia asked, hoping he could get her to confess more. That she would reveal to him those who threatened Ollie and the baby so he could dispose of them. 

“There was always a risk, you see…since…since the child is his.” Sister confessed, her words hitting Copia like a knife to the chest. She knew. She somehow knew that Copia wasn’t the father of Ollie’s child.

“Then… then you…”

“Know that Terzo is the father? Yes, I do, unfortunately and I am not the only one C.”

“Why haven’t you said anything before now? Pretending to be this innocent woman and now more and more of your secrets and lies just keep spewing out of you—-what more aren’t you telling me?!” Copia demanded answers. 

“I need you to understand C, it's not as simple as that. You see I had my suspicions that Sister Olive was carrying his child from the beginning. I knew she was pregnant before the brothers were killed. I will admit when I discovered it, I was angry. I hoped that she would end things before they got too far, but then when Terzo…well I just knew in my heart she wouldn’t be able to NOT have the baby.”

“This whole time!” Copia began yelling, ready to strangle her. His white eye, glowing with rage as he tried to contain his fury. Taking everything in him to not kill her where she stood. 

“Shh…someone will hear us.” she quieted him. Continuing on with what she needed to say, “I knew then her life would be in danger if anyone in the Ministry was to find out. I allowed myself to make some poor choices…because of my own selfish wishes to have you ascend.” Copia shook his head in disgust. He had never asked for any of this. Not the papacy, the power, any of it. All he ever wanted was Ollie and now his own mother was one of those responsible for the danger she was in.

“I panicked and tried tipping off the ghouls. Hoping they would convince her to leave, but instead all it did was drive Omega mad and Alpha deeper into his need to prove the ghouls’ innocence.”

“So there is a conspiracy against them?”

“Yes, C…I am so sorry. I can’t say why. All I know is that if anyone was to find out about it it would be catastrophic, but then you, in your chivalry and  devotion, decided to proclaim the child as your own…and I knew then if we could only keep that secret safe—well then your reign would still be secured. No one the wiser of Terzo’s little indiscretion.” 

“Indiscretion? Is that what a child is to you Sister…Mother?”

“Of course not C… listen to me. Now that it's out you are an Emeritus heir it no longer matters who is the child’s biological father between the two of you. Just knowing that the both of you carry the bloodline has placed you both in danger and there is nothing I can do to stop it now.”

“Who?! Who is behind this? Sweet Lucifer woman, if you have soul worth anything in you, you’ll tell me who threatens my family!” Copia begged, shaking her a bit in his haze of desperation. 

“I—I can’t say or they’ll kill me…you for sure.”

“Then you are of no use to me anymore.” Copia hissed, letting his grip go of her sleeves and storming out into the hall. Hastily making his way through doors to the ghoul’s den.

“I hope you know what you're doing.” Sister Imperator sniffled, knowing that the time of truth was finally on the horizon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Copia ascended the stairs, bounding up them like a man on fire. Determined to find Aether and the others and get to the bottom of things once and for all. After only a few moments he caught sight of them in the darkest area in the den. Their eyes glowing from the shadows as they stared at him from the end of the hall. 

“An Emeritus after all.” Alpha commented, his sharp tongue whipping out the words like lashes from a switch. 

“Indeed and because of that I fear we have all suffered. We need to move. It’s now or never.” Copia proclaimed.

“Wait what's going on?” Omega asked, the big ghoul ready for whatever may come, despite his calm demeanor. 

“Seems that you all have been made to take the fall for my brothers’ murders and that someone here is orchestrating the overthrow of the Emeritus line. Nihil and I are pawns. Most likely only serving their will until we will be put to slaughter like the rest. 

“Who?” Omega growled. 

“I am not sure, but as I have told Aeth, I have my suspicions about Saltarian. It’s just he couldn’t have killed them alone. There has to be others involved. Do you all remember anything from that night? Anyone acting strange.”

“Cardinal—don’t you think we would have done something about it by now if we knew who was setting us up?” Alpha argued while Omega tried to calm him down. 

“Wait…” Aether said quietly, everyone turning to face him. 

“What is it Aeth?” Copia asked, the ghoul scratching his neck as he tried to think. Copia and the others, watching the gears turning in the ghoul’s mind. Recalling only now what he thought previously was an insignificant detail.

“That night…well the whole thing. Everything about it was…you know it was overwhelming.”

“Yeah so go the fuck on with it! What do you know?” Alpha groaned, waiting for Aether to spit it out. Omega, placing his crawls into his kin’s shoulder to help ground him. 

“I caught the scent of something faint that stood out. It was hours before they allowed us around the breakroom. Especially since the whole ghoul mask thing and well I didn’t think much of it then, but despite all the other scents in the air I kept catching one that I wasn’t familiar with before that night.”

“What was it?” Omega asked. Aether furrowed his brows, trying to think of how to describe what he smelled. 

“Something woodsy. Like…like—”

“Like Juniper and Cypress?” Copia asked, the revelation hitting him full force.

“Yeah, that's it. How did you know?” Aether asked, his eyes widening. Copia clenched his fists recalling the smell he had the displeasure of encountering with his own nose. 

“Aether, Omega, Alpha—grab the others. I know who is behind all of this. 

[withingerly]

dramas I watched in 2023

I'm more of a reblogger/lurker here and I don't really post much (at all), but I was looking at my spreadsheet of dramas last month and realized I was about to hit an insane, personal record number of dramas watched in a calendar year. So I decided to write up a recap post, mostly for my own sake because I have a terrible memory.

I am closing out 2023 having watched 92 dramas. What the actual fuck. I thought watching 67 dramas in 2021 was a cry for help, but I really have no excuse for what happened this year. (To be fair, 43 of the dramas I watched in 2021 were c-dramas, whereas this year, 65 of the dramas I watched were BL, so by total hours watched [which is not actually a metric I keep], I did probably watch more in 2021.)

So, if you care to read about which of the 92 dramas I enjoyed the most this year, along with other random categories like favorite lead characters, favorite ships, and favorite drama with X trope, read on.

Favorite C-Drama: Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Okay, this was the year I finally got what all the fuss was about with Cheng Yi. He's honestly a little weird looking to me, but damn the dude is charismatic and magnetic and I could watch him spit up fake blood all day long. (Maybe someday I'll finish Immortal Samsara, but also I'm finally beginning to make my peace with the fact that xianxia just isn't really my thing, so maybe not.) Although Cheng Yi played a huge part in my love for Mysterious Lotus Casebook, it wouldn't be my number one c-drama of the year if everything else about it wasn't excellent too. This show gave us unhinged queen Jiao Li Qiao, Qiao Wan Miao finally cutting down Xiao Zi Jun as he deserved, actually interesting cases to solve, the best shiniang and the most pathetic shixiong. And oh yeah, a truly fantastic polyship. Pretty much every single thing about this drama was perfect to me, which is a rarity. This one is definitely going up there in my top 5 c-dramas of all time.

Runner Up: Love and Redemption

They really don't make dramas like they used to anymore – literally. I would love to rewatch this one, but I don't currently have the bandwidth to make it through all 59 episodes again. And the way they genderbent Xuan Ji in the final arc but still kept her love line with Si Feng as a central plot point regardless? Currently airing c-dramas wish they could (but no seriously, fuck censorship so hard). This one might also deserve all-time top 5 status, but I blazed through my first watch so fast and furious that I think I'd have to do a more reasonably paced rewatch to confirm. In any case, this was the drama I couldn't binge watch fast enough (only a Neo from the Matrix moment, where I literally upload the drama into my brain in an instant, would have sufficed), which is a testament to how thoroughly I enjoyed this one.

Favorite K-Drama: Revenant

It seems like every year there's a k-drama that makes me go against my own taste, and this year it was Revenant. I am pretty firmly anti-horror, but the gifs of Kim Tae Ri in this show got me so intrigued and she was an absolute beast. Her performance alone would have carried this to favorite status, but then my pathetic little man Hong Kyung showed up and I don't even know why I shipped them so hard but I really really did. 

Runner Up: Alchemy of Souls

I'm cheating and putting both seasons here because even though I've probably rewatched more bits from Light & Shadow, the second season wouldn't have any of the emotional weight it does without the first season, so I'm not picking between them and you can't make me. At first, I was so disappointed that Jung So Min had been recast, but I ended up loving the second season anyway. Actress switch aside, Light & Shadow feels like a very different show, but I loved the way they handled the repercussions of the first season in a way that felt both consistent and earned. 

Favorite K-BL: The Eighth Sense

Absolutely no question here. The Eighth Sense ate my brain while it was airing. It was the strong Shelter vibes at first, but then Seo Jae Won and Kim Ji Hyun totally won me over on their own merits. By the end of episode 9, my heart was in throat. 

Runner Up: Cherry Blossoms After Winter

When I started writing this out, I was not expecting Cherry Blossoms After Winter to be here at all, but it really snuck up on me. As soon as I finished the drama, I binge-read the webtoon, and then I ended up rewatching the series more than a couple times, so yeah, I enjoyed the hell out of this one, with all its old-school vibes.

Bonus Shout Out: Our Dating Sim

If Our Dating Sim had been a little angstier, it might have given the above two a run for their money, but regardless, I have to give it a shout out because "Have you been well, without me?" is a line that just lives in my brain rent-free from now on.

Favorite Tw-Drama: Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

This could just be the recency effect, but I might go so far as to say Oh No! Here Comes Trouble is my favorite Taiwanese drama of all time. The mysteries were engaging, it's funny, it's emotional – don't get me started on how many tears I shed. The acting and writing were just top notch, and if they bless us with a second season, I will be first in line to watch. 

Runner Up: About Youth

I don't think I hear many people talk about About Youth on here, so I feel pretty justified in calling it an underrated gem. It was basically, for me, a perfect drama all the way through. The main couple and the side couple were all wholesome babies and I wanted to protect them. Ye Guang's struggle in particular really resonated with me. I often think I'm getting too old for high school and college dramas, but when they hit that nostalgia factor just right, I am sold.

Favorite J-Drama: Utsukushii Kare: Eternal

Cheating a bit here because Eternal was a movie, but it was the final installment to the Utsukushii Kare series and it was perfect. We finally got the character growth I wanted, that made me believe these two crazy kids would actually make it. 

Runner Up: Tokyo in April Is…

My best friend pointed out recently that j-dramas are great with obsession, and yeah, I do love my j-dramas a little fucked up. Not only does this one feature obsession, but it also has another of my favorite tropes: second chances. Ren had my whole freaking heart, and the way he finally got his happy ending left me on the floor. That chase scene was one of my favorites.

Favorite Thai BL: A Tale of Thousand Stars

(Fun fact! Prior to this year, the only Thai BL that I had watched was Kinnporsche. RIP to me.)

This was definitely my hardest category, because it was my most-watched category (33 dramas), but I gotta give it to A Tale of Thousand Stars. Solid execution of some of my favorite tropes and it just ticked all the boxes: good pacing, good acting, good plot, good chemistry. And lucky me, we got Our Skyy 2 this year. I'm usually not that bothered by proposal scenes, but this one got me hard. It was exactly the kind of epilogue to Tian and Phupha's story that I didn't realize I needed.

Runner Up: Lovely Writer

On the complete other end of the spectrum, upending all our favorite tropes, is Lovely Writer. I rewatched this after watching a dozen more Thai BLs, and I have to say I enjoyed it even more. During my first watch, I hated the first half, only stuck with it because I liked Gene so much, and loved the second half. Upon rewatch, the first half was not nearly as unbearable, and I think it was because I could see that Sib was intentionally playing into a BL archetype. But still, the second half has all of my favorite moments. Once their shared history is revealed, Sib stops being a cardboard cutout and becomes more human, and the entire storyline picks up and I am much more invested in his and Gene's relationship. That dinner where they come out to their families is excruciatingly awkward and I love it (and the episode that follows) so much – those scenes alone elevate it to favorite status.

Favorite First Half of a Drama: Destined

I love both Bai Jing Ting and Song Yi, so my expectations for this drama were very high, and the first half of Destined absolutely delivered. Just sheer perfection, no wrong steps, everything I didn't even know I wanted. Unfortunately, that kind of means the show peaked when they found themselves in the wilderness, trying to get the other to survive out of sheer willpower purely because they believed in the other's goodness. THE BLOOD FEEDING!!! Ahem. So yeah, the second half was okay, it had its moments but was generally a little boring and predictable, but dear god that first half was incredible. 

Runner Up: The Blood of Youth

It may seem strange to have The Blood of Youth in this category, since I ended up giving it a 5/5 rating, but I just loved the Xiao Se x Wu Xin x Lei Wu Jie dynamic so much and as the show veered away from that, I couldn't help but be a little disappointed.

Favorite Drama That I Wouldn't Actually Recommend to Other People: Love in the Air

I know some people loathe everything MAME touches, but Love in the Air worked for me on every level. Well, I wish the acting for the couple in the second half had been a little better (ducks and runs), but I loved the first half and still quite enjoyed the second half. I really wouldn't recommend it to anyone, but it speaks to my little lizard brain. 

Runner Up: History 4: Close to You

I absolutely get why this show is controversial and why people hate it. I also don't care. This show had some delicious angst, and I was emotionally invested in both couples. Just a thoroughly enjoyable watch, but yeah, unless you're familiar with certain BL tropes and know you like them, I wouldn't actually recommend this one.

Favorite ML: Li Lianhua / Li Xiangyi (Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

Look, was it really going to be anyone other than this broken and silly man that feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and thinks his own life is worth less than everyone else's? It's been 4 months since I finished this drama, and I am still so emotional about Li Lianhua.

Runner Up: Xie Wei / Xue Ding Fei (Story of Kunning Palace)

I love an unhinged bastard, okay? When you realize that he loved her all along, her suicide in the first timeline hits that much harder. But I do love that he (albeit unknowingly) gets a second chance, and the man just goes for it. Never ever over the scene where he stabs his own hand, through the table no less, despite his obsession with playing the qin, to protect her. Romance storyline aside, I also love a good hidden identity trope (yes, there's a theme to this category). Xie Wei's revenge quest was delicious, and I freaking loved his scenes with Yan Mu and Yan Lin, all the meaningful looks and things unsaid until Yan Lin finally knelt in front of his cousin and acknowledged him.

BL Shout Out: Ai Di (Kiseki: Dear to Me)

It's hard to compare MLs from shows that run for 40 episodes vs. 12, but I have to shout out my favorite feral gangster Ai Di. I love me some good pining, and not only has this man pined for nearly his entire life, but he makes it everyone's problem. 

Favorite FL: Xu Hongdou (Meet Yourself)

Xu Hongdou was just so cool and kind and gorgeous, and okay, yeah, I had a big crush on her. I've never seen Liu Yi Fei in anything before, I didn't even realize she played Mulan in that recent Disney live action production until my sister pointed it out much later, but she's one of those actresses that can make me cry just by tearing up. Xu Hongdou felt like a real person, kind but not a pushover, strong but still vulnerable, and I somehow want to grow up to be her even though I'm older than her.

Runner Up (tie): Shim Woo Joo (Call It Love) / Gu San Yeong (Revenant)

This one is a tie because I loved both Woo Joo and San Yeong for the exact same reasons: they were just so fucked up but trying so hard, and more than anything, I just wanted them to be happy. While the ships in both dramas were great, for me the real otps were the FL x happiness.

Favorite Supporting ML: Wu Xin (The Blood of Youth)

Every time Wu Xin was on screen, it was just a breath of fresh air. I get that he's totally overpowered, so for plot reasons it made sense to remove him, make him mind controlled, etc. But every time he wasn't on screen, I missed him. Even though the casting was a bit of an odd choice (they gave us a man in his early 30s playing a teenager), I can't imagine loving Wu Xin as much as I did if it hadn't been Liu Xue Yi. He doesn't really manage to look like a teenager, especially next to Li Hong Yi and Ao Rui Peng, but he really pulled off Wu Xin's innocence and naivete and childish humor. He also gave Wu Xin a certain gravitas and realism that I don't think a younger actor could have pulled off.

Runner Up: Jin Fan (My Journey to You)

Jin Fan, my beloved. His backstory was delicious and made his relationship with Gong Ziyu even better. Also, the fact that he actually secretly liked Gong Zishang back the entire time??? My man.

Favorite Supporting FL: Yang Ying (A Journey to Love)

A YING MY GIRL. Her journey from neglected, unloved princess to capable and powerful grown-ass woman who marries a dude she doesn't love to protect her people was quite possibly my favorite thing about this show. I would 100% watch a drama just about her, and I so wish we'd gotten an actual glimpse of her and Li Tong Guang in that little epilogue in the final episode. Their alliance/marriage is fascinating to me. He Lan Dou better be a FL in some dramas asap. She was equally convincing as both a meek, terrified princess, helpless to the whims of bigger political machinations around her, and an icy cold princess in enemy territory, actually playing the game instead of just being a game piece, determined to not only survive but to also protect everyone she loves.

Runner Up: Yoon San (The Eighth Sense)

Shout out to the only person who was actually Jae Won's friend in this show. Yoon San was a total scene stealer for me, don't even get me started on that bit when she was singing by the fire on the beach (swoon), and I found her friendship with Jae Won really sweet and believable. I think this actress is super talented, she nailed the funny moments, she nailed the heartfelt moments, and I would love to watch her in another drama.

Favorite Non-Canon Ship: Gong Shangjue x Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You)

I did not go into this drama expecting to be so into these cousins/sworn brothers, but Gong Shangjue and Gong Yuanzhi's relationship as it unfolded throughout the show became the one I was the most invested in. I fully admit I'm a sucker for a dynamic where one party is wholehearted devoted to the other and also wholeheartedly believes the other is not nearly as devoted, so as soon as we got their tragic backstory, I was solidly on board.

Runner Up: Na Na x Da Mai (Meet Yourself)

I know Chinese censorship blah blah blah, but Na Na and Da Mai should have been girlfriends, cowards. I guess at the very least, neither of them ended up with a real love line of their own, but still, they should have been girlfriends. It just makes sense.

Technicality Shout Out: Li Lianhua x Fang Xiaobao (Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

The only reason this pairing isn't at the top of the list is because I, personally, don't consider them non-canon. They read to me exactly the same as the pairings in The Untamed and Word of Honor, thus they are canon.

Favorite Friendship: Pu Yiyong x Chen Chuying x Cao Guangyan (Oh No! Here Comes Trouble)

Watch the last episode of Oh No! Here Comes Trouble, and tell me this friendship trio didn't make you cry buckets. You know each of them is wondering how they ended up with the other two as friends, but somehow they're also totally ride or die and I love them all so much. 

Runner Up: Lom x Yiwa (Wedding Plan)

I loved Lom and Yiwa's long history together, the sacrifices they made for each other, their deep love born out of a bond of shared family pressure and mutual understanding. Their friendship actually drove the plot, and even when I was hollering at Lom to just be honest, his actions (and inaction) felt realistic once we got to know how important Yiwa is to him and why and once we had the context to understand how he had lived his life up to that point.

Favorite Found Family: Liudaotang (A Journey to Love)

If you've seen this show, I feel like it needs no explanation. These spies and scouts and murdery people with big ass swords and spiked shields and automatic crossbows were too good for this world. And the way their little family just kept getting bigger and bigger (spoiler: UNTIL IT DIDN'T) was so much fun to watch (spoiler: UNTIL IT WASN'T).

Runner Up: Rainbow Premium Taxi Service (Taxi Driver, Season 2)

I loved the way they addressed the end of season 1, by showing that these people are all a little messed up and they belong together and they really need the revenge business just as much as their clients do. When Kim Do Gi got roofied and he had his little housewarming hallucination, where they all wore matching slippers with hearts (!!), it honestly made me wanna cry a little.

Favorite Drama Featuring Friends to Lovers: My Only 12%

I don't know if it's because I missed it when it was airing, but I don't think I see many people talk about this show and I don't get why. This is to me quintessential friends to lovers. Seeiw and Cake's friendship felt absolutely real and lived in and honest, and the episode when Cake's family moved away had me bawling. Seeiw's pining physically hurt me, and Cake's confession scene in English could have been cringe but it was actually so fucking romantic.

Runner Up: Fake It Till You Make It

I don't know if everyone else would classify this one as friends to lovers because from the moment these two meet, it feels like they're teetering on the cliff of a romance or at least an excellent one night stand. But I just loved the way they flirted openly and then talked honestly about why they needed to stay friends and nothing more. I'm not typically that into "will they won't they" romances, but here, their hesitation to get more involved made sense emotionally, but at the same time their chemistry was fire and their attraction to each other was palpable, so it all just worked for me. Also friendship rings instead of couple rings was so stupid and I loved it.

Favorite Drama Where Nice Guys Finish First: Light On Me

This is totally not to say that Shin Da On isn't also nice, I just have no idea what to call this trope, but it's one of my faves, where the lead character ends up with the person they didn't actually fall for first. I did not foresee Tae Kyung ending up with Shin Woo at all, which is some poor media literacy on my part because all the hints are there from the beginning, but that kind of made the ride even more fun. One of the reasons I enjoy this trope so much is the built-in pining, and Shin Woo had some excellent pining. "Yesterday, today, and probably tomorrow, I will continue thinking about you" was a freaking great line.

Runner Up: My Ride

You might think a drama about two actually decent guys would be boring and lack conflict, but this drama employed this trope perfectly by starting out with Tawan getting a shot at his first love, the seemingly wonderful Por. So instead we got some great pining, Tawan being an oblivious sweetheart, and Mork trying so hard to be a good friend and not overstep, even as he was dealing with his own sexuality crisis. Just delicious.

Favorite Drama About Soulmates: Until We Meet Again

Did I only watch two dramas with the soulmate trope? Maybe so, but it's my list, so I do what I want. Until We Meet Again was what I would call a pitch perfect show – it delivered on everything it set out to do. I thought I was doing okay with the whole tragic soulmate storyline, but then I got to the very last episode and cried pretty much from start to finish. From the start, that episode got me so good and did not let up for like the next half hour, and so I was basically just left leaking tears until it all wrapped. Damn you, Fluke.

Runner Up: La Pluie

God this show was interesting. Smarter people than me have written a lot more nuanced and thoughtful meta than I ever could, so all I'll say is that I thoroughly enjoyed that a drama based on the premise of soulmates was really actually about how love is work. It wasn't a perfect show, but it was so interesting and the cast was so great that it was definitely a stand out.

For a true glimpse into my insanity this year, here is the full list of dramas I watched, including my ratings, in the order that I watched them:

Alchemy of Souls (4/5)

Alchemy of Souls: Light and Shadow (4/5)

Unchained Love (2/5)

Hi Venus (2/5)

The Blood of Youth (5/5)

Meet Yourself (5/5)

Silent (3/5)

Big Dragon (3/5)

Love in the Air (4/5)

My Tooth, Your Love (4/5)

Moonlight Chicken (4/5)

Utsukushii Kare: Season 2 (3/5)

A League of Nobleman (3/5)

Lovely Writer (4/5)

The New Employee (3/5)

Be Loved in House: I Do (2/5)

Not Me (3/5)

Tharntype (3/5)

Roommates of Poongduck 304 (3/5)

Theory of Love (3/5)

Tale of Thousand Stars (4/5)

Wish You: Your Melody from My Heart (2/5)

Our Dating Sim (4/5)

Cherry Blossoms After Winter (4/5)

Call It Love (3/5)

To My Star (3/5)

Bed Friend (3/5)

The Eighth Sense (5/5)

Taxi Driver: Season 2 (3/5)

Takara-kun & Amagi-kun (3/5)

A Shoulder to Cry On (4/5)

About Youth (5/5)

Light On Me (4/5)

Minato's Laundromat (4/5)

History 2: Crossing the Line (3/5)

History 1: Obsessed (2/5)

Dark Blue Kiss (3/5)

Together With Me (3/5)

Oh No! Here Comes Trouble (5/5)

My Engineer (3/5)

Never Let Me Go (4/5)

My Only 12% (4/5)

Black Knight (3/5)

Love Mate (3/5)

Until We Meet Again (4/5)

Love By Chance (4/5)

Bad Buddy (4/5)

Between Us (3/5)

Here We Meet Again (3/5)

Secret Crush on You (2/5)

Love Tractor (2/5)

My Ride (3/5)

Star in My Mind (2/5)

La Pluie (4/5)

2gether (3/5)

Destined (3/5)

Hidden Love (4/5)

Tokyo in April is… (4/5)

Revenant (5/5)

Mysterious Lotus Casebook (5/5)

Sing My Crush (3/5)

Bad Guys (3/5)

Love and Redemption (5/5)

Oh! Boarding House (3/5)

Stay By My Side (3/5)

Jun & Jun (3/5)

Fake It Till You Make It (3/5)

The Legend of Zhuohua (3/5)

My Lovely Liar (3/5)

My Journey to You (4/5)

Second Chance (3/5)

Lost in Translation (3/5)

My Personal Weatherman (3/5)

Wedding Plan (4/5)

Laws of Attraction (3/5)

Bon Appetit (3/5)

Oxygen (2/5)

Why R U? (Korea) (3/5)

Kiseki: Dear to Me (4/5)

Hidden Agenda (3/5)

Behind Cut (3/5)

History 4: Close to You (4/5)

Destined with You (3/5)

Dangerous Romance (3/5)

Story of Kunning Palace (4/5)

Perfect Marriage Revenge (3/5)

My Dear Gangster Oppa (2/5)

A Breeze of Love (2/5)

I Cannot Reach You (4/5)

Be Mine Superstar (3/5)

A Journey to Love (5/5)

Ai Long Nhai (3/5)

[violetsystems]

I think my holidays are meant to be ruined just to advance thematic developments. I don't know how much more disturbed I could be right now about everything. But I did manage to cook a juicy turkey breast for myself. I've been applying for jobs hardcore the last three weeks. Rejections on Christmas Eve. I don't really have any support in the process emotionally or any real encouragement from my family. It's scary to me. Especially when everyone around me in this neighborhood judging me by my family and my racial roots. Part of what fucked up my Christmas was a conversation I had with someone I fear is suffering from early onset Alzheimer's. I don't want to say it. But I do think it out loud often. Can't tell if the forgetfulness and lack of attention to detail is that or just an expression of no one caring. It's hard when you love a parent to process that they might not love you the same way back. Part of love is accepting that but it doesn't go very far in my family tree. Had to be reminded that the last time I saw part of my extended family was 2016. And yet they celebrated my uncle's retirement on my birthday weekend last year. So I don't know what those kind of wishes really mean to me at this point. I did reach out to some contacts professionally. When I say professional I mean in the white collar world and not this dj, musical art fairytale bullshit. They did take the time to send a holiday greeting in an email. Not some Spotify year ended wrapped jpg on instagram. I watch more anime than probably anyone. But to think we're going to ride off into the sunset on drink tickets and no health insurance is dangerous. I keep hearing this repetition that I should apply for a warehouse job stocking food or electronics. When I apply for a warehouse job or even for Costco corporate, I just hear back "Why don't you apply to Costco?" Then expected to provide free tech support for a non profit and act like that's not qualified labor or experience. I feel the disconnect is now total performance. But it's more suffering. Like someone wants me to revolt instead of pointing out the fact that it all seems set up with people watching me on the property like they're writing a sitcom or a play. You are writing your last will and testament if this is what that is about. Personally I'm not mad that it makes me madder about searching for a job that I'm not meant to find. I'm not even mad that a family member has to scoff at the job I'm still under review for in which I asked their boss to provide me with a reference letter. He just wants to dismiss that it's even legitimate and go backwards in my career for safety's sake. He wants me to give up and there's a part of me that already has. On my dreams. On my goals. On my life. On my happiness. So people can just shut the fuck up about watching every little fucking thing I do. There's going to be a point that I prove that this is all fake. And I'm going to walk off the set with a coffee and a settlement check. Until then I just have to play like this is all normal and you really expect that famous and connected people offer legitimate apologies for anything other than psychological manipulation. They don't. My own personal reality show might be a little different. But believe me when I say to you that how I write on here is just expressing my impatience with how sociopathic people accept their lives to be. What terrible way to die. Knowing you relented to all this and didn't fight for your own freedom. Even if freedom is minimum wage at this point. Or staying away from drunk people talking about the future on New Year's Eve.

[gunkreads]

I’ve been really pretty upset thinking about the show lately. In the most simple terms, it’s not my Wheel of Time. It’s got so little of what I love about the books. Most omissions and changes are justifiable with such a drastic medium change, but enough of them are just... incomprehensible to me that I’m upset about it. They focus on aspects of the story I’ve never cared about and spend a frankly insulting amount of time trying to make me care about them. It’s so painfully clear to me that the creators want to tell a different story than what I read in the books. The changes go beyond picturing things differently, going so far as to change the overall trajectory and tone of the story.

The reasons for these changes don’t matter to me, honestly. I could probably name you forty and almost all of them are valid in ways that do nothing to mitigate the feeling of emptiness the show gives me. I can’t watch it as an adaptation of Wheel of Time because it’s just... it’s got almost none of what I wanted! It’s got none of the feeling I have rereading Eye of the World. I don’t even want to list out all the things I’m sad about the show changing, but suffice it to say episode 5 was kind of the nail in the coffin for me feeling comfortable calling it a good translation of the story to TV. Episode 5 was fine, I guess, and had some stuff I really liked, but it just felt like. I don’t even know. Hell, I’m the world’s biggest fan of chest-thumping as a dirge; it’s my favorite funeral trope ever, but that scene did literally nothing for me. Felt hokey and too early.

I can still totally watch it as a completely new show that shares character names with one of my favorite book series, but on the whole, it’s just... it’s not Wheel of Time to me. Maybe it was too much to hope that I’d like it in that way. Watching the new episodes every Thursday takes effort because I have to work so goddamn hard to remember that it’s a completely different story. It’s not the same at all! My favorite characters are getting fucking shafted, the development I love in them is nonexistent, the worldbuilding that wrapped me in chains and threw me in the trunk for the whole 14-book ride is practically forgotten, they’re skipping over entire sequences that are so crucial to my desire to show my friends and family this show... It’s just painful. Eye of the World is nothing to me without Elyas, without Bayle Domon, without Mat and Rand performing their way to Caemlyn, without any mystery around Moiraine, without Perrin’s axe, without without without without.

And they scrapped all these incredible stories that give the world a real sense of adventure for a painfully cramped, overly-action-heavy, abridged version of all the meh parts of the book. Then, as if to add insult to injury, absolutely fuck the shit out of their runtime with a bunch of Aes Sedai bullshit during which you’d be forgiven for falling asleep. That Alvaro Morte, playing what should be a minor character, holds the screen better than anyone else in that setting is a testament to how poorly done that entire sideplot has been.

I’m sorry, I just can’t walk around acting like I’m happy with the trajectory of the show. I’m frankly kinda pissed about it. Fundamentally, this is small potatoes because it’s the opinion of one overly-critical guy who isn’t even paying to watch the show, but hey it’s my blog and I get to pick what to be mad about. I’m still upset. It’s just... I feel lied to about this being an adaptation. At best, it’s loosely based on the events in the books, and at worst it’s a mockery of them. So much is lost and almost nothing is gained.

go ahead hit me with that “don’t be a bitch and appreciate that we finally do have a show” or whatever; this means nothing to me. I never needed a show, but I let myself get excited that it’d be good. All that hubbub about building Emond’s Field from scratch, then we find out that they forgot to add the part where the show is fun to watch. Some things are better left unadapted, apparently.

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [3]

(not my gif)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 3,695

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: Dean suggests the two of you pose as a couple for a case. Sam objects wholeheartedly. (aka Sam and Y/N go to therapy.)

Warnings: jealous!sam, jealous!reader, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, fake marriage, kind of a case!fic, slow burn, fluff, basically all the tropes

A/N: hi loves, sorry this took so long! had some trouble with this one and i’m still not completely happy with it but hopefully you guys enjoy anyway. and i’m sorry the chapters keep getting longer, haha this whole series was only supposed to be a one-shot. oops.

written for @spnfluffbingo and @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo!

Square Filled: Fake Marriage for @spnfluffbingo and Mutual Pining for @girl-next-door-writes​

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The third time was honestly quite fun for Dean. It started with a rare night of relaxation. The three of you were hanging out around a table in the bunker library, steadily working your way through a six-pack Sam had brought back from a supply run earlier. Dean had his legs crossed and feet propped up casually before him, while you and Sam were scrolling leisurely through the internet on your respective laptops.

“I think I just found us a case,” Sam had started with furrowed brows, as he sat up to get a closer look at his screen. “So get this, two married couples in Wisconsin were found dead after visiting the same couples therapist.”

“Does it say how?” you asked, fidgeting with the label on your beer bottle.

“Yeah, they all fell from windows in upper stories.”

Your brows flew up and you huffed in disbelief, “You’re right, seems like a rather unlikely coincidence, probably something up our alley.”

At this point, Dean was ready to burst with glee. God himself could not have presented a better opportunity. If things worked out, he could finally put an end to Sam’s petulant spasms and eradicate the sexual tension that hung so potently (and disturbingly) throughout the air whenever you and Sam were in the same room.

“Well, I guess we know what we gotta do…” Dean tried to fight the grin on his lips as he turned to you, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

With a perfectly straight face, he managed to ask, “Will you marry me?”

The mouthful of beer that Sam was about to swallow erupted forth in a cascade of tiny droplets, spritzing through the air as he began to cough and choke on what little alcohol had somehow made it down the wrong pipe.

You immediately looked over to see if he was alright, not expecting to find the usually adroit and graceful man a sputtering, red-faced mess, “Geez, Sam. Are you okay?” Rising from your seat to move towards him, you stopped when he held out a large palm and waved it at you as a form of both reassurance and interception.

“Yea- yeah, I’m fine,” Sam wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a moment to recompose himself before sending you an awkward little smile of gratitude.

Dean cleared his throat, “So whaddya say, Y/N/N?”

“Huh?”

“About my proposal, before Sammy so rudely interrupted.” Sam was glaring holes through his brother now, but Dean paid him no attention.

“Oh, right,” you chose your next words carefully, “Umm, you mean you wanna go undercover?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side as he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive smirk, “If the shoe fits…”

“Well aren’t you romantic?” you quipped sarcastically.

“Oh sweetheart, just you wait and see,” Dean sent you a wink that you were sure had dropped many a panty in his time yet held little to no effect over you because… well because you were busy being a little too enraptured by his baby brother. That didn’t seem to stop Dean though, “Trust me, as your loving husband-” It was Sam’s turn to clear his throat, but again Dean ignored him, “I'm gonna romance the shit outta you.”

You scoffed at him in amusement, “Right, you mean when we go to couples therapy?”

“Baby girl, you’d be surprised-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing both hands up in objection, “Can we just back up for a minute? Why does anyone have to get married?”

Dean shot him an incredulous look, “Come on, Sam, we've worked enough of these cases to know this is always the easiest and fastest way.”

Through stiff jaws Sam released a harsh, conceding sigh, “OK... then... why does it have to be you and Y/N?”

“Cause we’re best friends; it'll be more believable,” Dean answered easily with a grin.

A disbelieving stare crossed Sam’s indignant features before he looked down to suppress his emotions with a sardonic nod and pursed lips. It was one thing for Dean to suggest playing your husband but to claim that you're his best friend instead of Sam's... That was too far.

“Plus, you've always been better at playing FBI,” his brother continued with that irritating smile.

Sam gave himself a moment before stating adamantly, “I don't think it should be you.”

“What, why? You don't think we can get the job done?” Dean’s tone was accusing, and you knew he was trying to provoke Sam, but ever since the notion that two out of the three of you needed to play a married couple had been introduced, you found yourself at an inevitable impasse.

“No, I-“ Sam could barely get any words out before Dean circled back to you instead.

“Y/N?” The look Dean sent you forced you to face your inner dilemma head on. On the one hand, you wanted nothing more than an excuse to get close to Sam, to hold his hand and gaze at him adoringly without worrying about anyone seeing, and so much more… but on the other hand, you feared that a glimpse of the ‘real deal’, however contrived, might just push you over the decisive edge. What if you couldn’t go back to your platonic guise after? What if you broke your own heart?

“What? Um, yeah, I think it could work,” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously, keeping your eyes on Dean’s to avoid meeting Sam’s.

Your response elicited a smug expression on the older Winchester’s face however, as he returned to questioning his brother, “So what is it, Sam? You don't think I can pretend to be in love with Y/N? Cause trust me, that'll be easy.” There was that wink again, prompting a roll of your eyes.

“No, I just-“ You were worried Sam’s jaw might fall off if he clenched it any tighter. Why did he seem to care so much anyway? Was he jealous? The thought popped into your head almost as quickly as you dismissed it.

“Then what, Sam?” Dean plucked at that final straw and an explosion of the type that had seemed to become increasingly common from the ordinarily calm and gentle giant followed.

“IT SHOULD BE ME, OK?” Sam roared in frustration, his expansive chest was heaving and his hazel irises had darkened immeasurably. “It should be me,” he repeated more quietly.

Dean smirked; this was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he expected. “Well geez, Sammy. If you wanted to get with Y/N so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

“Wha- that’s not- I don't,” Sam looked extremely distressed and you couldn’t blame him. Whatever Dean was playing at had led him to essentially force Sam to reject you out right, and being the compassionate soul that he was, you knew Sam never wanted to hurt you that way, even if it was indirectly. “I just- I think it would work better this way. You're not exactly the marriage or therapy type and you're just not-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna shack up with Y/N and who could blame you? There’s no need to throw a hissy fit, baby brother. She’s all yours.” Dean chuckled at the sight of your averted eyes and Sam’s burning cheeks, thinking his work was just about done, “Alright, I’m gonna go get Baby ready. You kids have fun.”

When the echo of a closing door filled the room, Sam turned back to you, “Y/N, look I-“

“Don’t worry about it, Sam, I know what you meant,” you brushed him off hastily, “And you’re right, Dean would probably have a hard time keeping up the act. He’d end up flirting with the therapist or something.” Laughing always did help you conceal the pain in your chest.

As it turned out, it was a flirtatious therapist you should have been more concerned about. The woman had eyes for Sam only as soon as the two of you walked into her office and sat down on the tiny loveseat before her.

“Welcome, I’m Dr. Ryan, but you can call me Marlena,” she paused to perform a not-so-subtle scan along the length of Sam’s body before smiling at him seductively, “Why don’t we start by introducing yourselves?”

You kept your expression neutral though there was an urge to glare at her. After all, didn’t she think Sam was a married man? Perhaps this was part of the scam that got the couples before you killed, your rational side countered.

“Uh, OK…” Sam appeared rather uncomfortable beside you, pressing his lips into a tight semblance of a smile, “Umm, I'm Sam and this is my wife Y-Y/N.”

The damn Winchester was always so adorably flustered every time someone hit on him, something you never failed to find incredibly endearing, especially considering he was a 6'4” hunk of a man who could surely get inside the pants of any woman he wanted. You assumed, being that good looking, he’d be used to the attention by now, but the fact that he still reacted this way was a true testament to his humility.

“And how did you two meet?”

“Through work,” Sam answered shortly. A resounding pang had shot through his chest when he introduced you as his wife and he was still trying to recoup. If only this wasn't all make-believe, if only he could sit close to you and hold your hand in his whenever he wanted and not just for the sake of a ridiculous pretence. The Mr. and Mrs. titles and matching rings weren't even necessary. He just wanted to make you his as much as he was already yours.

Fuck, Dean was right; Sam was in deep. Just the thought of Dean acting as your husband had his heart racing and every muscle in his body tense with envy. There was no way he could have handled seeing his brother all over you, even if it was pretend. And if the fact that he had to make Dean go get the rings for your current ruse, because he had a strong suspicion the act of buying you a ring yet knowing it wasn’t real might just annihilate the final pieces of his fragile heart, wasn’t telling enough... Sam was finally beginning to realize that he could no longer deny his feelings for you.

“Tell me about that. What is it you two do?”

Although the questions were directed at both of you, Marlena’s gaze remained resolutely transfixed upon Sam, but the man was much too busy thinking about you to notice.

“Uh, well it was about 3 years ago. We’re firefighters and Y/N had been sent from another division to help out with a particularly bad… fire. But she somehow got there before we did, and when I arrived on the scene, I saw her walk out of the burning building in a blaze of smoke and dust. She was carrying a little boy, who she had just saved, covered in ash and soot, a-and there was scrape above her left brow that had left a trail of darkened blood down the side of her face,” Sam smiled to himself at the memory, “But I couldn’t move. It was just all so surreal because it was the last thing I expected to find, and I thought she was the most beautiful soul I had ever set my eyes on. I knew right then that I would gladly devote the rest of my life to getting to know her better, to becoming worthy of her, but when she came up to us, I could barely speak in full sentences and I made a fool of myself by stumbling over my own feet. My brother, who’s uh- also a firefighter, later told me he thought I was having a stroke.” Sam chuckled softly. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be a little lost in his own world.

By contrast, you were staring at him in shock. You remembered the day quite clearly, although in reality it was a wendigo that you were forced to kill by starting a fire since your flare gun wouldn’t work, but Sam got the rest of the details spot on. The lilt of his voice as he spoke had made it all sound so real, for a moment, you nearly tricked yourself. Who knew he had such incredible acting chops on top of all those other skills?

“Well, that sounds like a beautiful start. I’m assuming you work together now?” Taking note of the new edge in her voice, you gave her a nod and Dr. Ryan continued, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a pen, “It must be terribly hard to maintain a work-life balance and keep the romance alive. I’m sure there are issues from work that you’ll often bring home, conflicts that can never be resolved considering the lack of alone time? Maybe something you found annoying about the other that seemed bearable in the beginning but has now festered to become an unmendable chasm between the two of you?”

Your eyes narrowed of their own accord. Between the obvious flirting to the now obvious attempt to instigate discord between you and Sam, you were starting to think Marlena was undoubtedly the monster (that or she was an awful couples therapist). Her motive remained unclear though, so you played along.

“Uh, well Sam can be a bit… overprotective, at times, when we’re working, and sometimes it can get in the way of the job.”

“Ok but that’s only because Y/N can be ludicrously stubborn, at times, and she has a habit of running headfirst into danger." Sam was surprisingly quick to retort.

"It's literally our job to run into danger, Sam.” Your body was now twisted to face his, “And if I recall correctly, my ‘ludicrous stubbornness’ has led to the saving of multiple lives, yours included."

Sam lowered his head and scoffed lightly before he too turned to face you completely, golden eyes boring into yours with an intensity you were not prepared for, "I know it has but sometimes you act like other people's lives are worth more than yours and that's not true. Besides, it's my job to care about you, to protect you… I-I mean as your husband."

For a second, things got a little too real there, but you took a deep breath to remind yourself this was all just an act, "And I appreciate that Sam, but sometimes it can be a bit overbearing-"

"Well if I'm overbearing it's only because I'm terrified every time we go out there,” Sam began to enunciate every word stiffly, speaking almost entirely through gritted teeth, “Because I can't bear the thought of losing you, because I can't fathom living a life without you!"

And once again, you were left staring at him with your mouth agape. He sure was laying it on thick, or perhaps he just wanted to win the fight, because you had no idea how to argue against that.

“Alright, I think that’s enough on that topic. Maybe we should try something else,” Dr. Ryan interjected, “Oh look at that, time’s almost up! I always end my sessions with a fun little exercise. I want you to look each other in the eyes and take turns coming up with one positive word to describe the other, something you love about your partner, but it must be genuine.”

Quirking your brow, you struggled to restrain the smile on your face as you turned back to Sam. Well this’ll be easy.

“Intelligent,” you stated matter-of-factly, figuring you’d start with something relatively un-incriminating.

“Strong,” Sam came back at you immediately. There was a fierceness in his eyes, almost as if he was daring you to bring it on.

“Kind,” came your simple response.

“Discerning.” His voice seemed lower for some reason.

“Capable,” you kept your eyes locked on Sam’s as you lifted your chin.

“Tough.” There was an undeniable fondness that accompanied the word when it left his lips.

“Sassy,” you replied, unable to stop the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Tenacious,” Sam narrowed his eyes at you.

“Selfless.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

“Complex.” He was smiling at you now.  

“Protective,” you finally admitted despite your earlier complaints.

“Beguiling,” Why were you both whispering?

“Tall.” Was that lust you could hear in your own voice?

“Badass,” Was that lust you could hear in his voice?

“Gorgeous… or handsome if you prefer.” When did your faces get so close?

“So fucking beautif-”

“Woah! OK, I think we’re done here.” Shit, you had almost forgotten about the therapist. “That was… excessive. I don’t think I’ll be needing to see you again,” she declared as she stood up rather suddenly, prompting you and Sam to do the same though you were both still a little caught up in your game.

“Wow, you really are tall,” Marlena breathed out as she smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt. The provocative tone of her voice had you back down to earth in no time. "And those years of firefighting have definitely paid off, what with all those big muscles.”

Sam gave an awkward half laugh as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you tight against his side. You weren’t sure what compelled you to but as if on instinct, you raised your outer hand and placed it lightly on Sam’s stomach, feeling his abs contracting even through the soft flannel beneath your fingers as you replied, “Yeah, that’s just another one of the many things I love about Sam.”

The laugh that escaped Sam this time was much more sincere, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Ryan.” He kept his hand on your waist as he led the two of you out the door, trying his damnedest to ignore the enticing sensation your touch had evoked throughout his body, as well as the subsequent questions of what your little hand might feel like on other parts of him if a simple graze of his abdomen could produce such a dramatic effect.

“Did it seem like she was rushing us to you?” you questioned Sam pensively when you were back at the motel half an hour later.

“Yeah, like the more we spoke, the more she lost interest in us,” he agreed.

Your next words tumbled out without permission and you could only cringe at the bitter inflection of your voice, “Well, she didn’t seem to lose any interest in you.”

Sam felt himself smile at your adorableness; he couldn’t help it when your bottom lip jutted out like that. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were jealous.

“Are you two outta your damn minds?” Dean looked from his brother’s face to yours. “Did you even check the time? She only gave you about half of what we paid for!”

“What, really?” you and Sam responded in chorus.

“Yeah, but luckily I’m a genius and I got everything we needed within the first few minutes.” Grinning in that cocky way of his, Dean explained, “Your EMF sensors were off the charts as soon as you walked into her office, and I found ectoplasm in the bathroom.”

“She’s a ghost?” Sam did that adorable scrunchy thing with his face and you had to physically stop yourself from staring.

“Possessed by one, yeah. And I checked the records. She spent at least an hour overtime with both of the dead couples.”

“So, what, are we not good enough to be her next victims?” you wondered.

“Maybe she saw through the act?” Sam suggested.

Dean was fumbling through a stack of papers until he found something, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it. Here, check this out.”

Sam started to read out loud, “’Grave of local girl found desecrated by joggers passing through the cemetery early Sunday morning…’”

“Turns out the kid got pushed out a window accidentally when her parents were fighting... Splat.” Dean elaborated, ever so tactfully.

You were starting to piece it together though, “So now she’s seeking out dysfunctional couples to kill them the way she died… for what, revenge? Or to stop them from accidentally murdering their own kids?”

“That’s my best guess,” Dean confirmed.

“Huh… nice work on research, buddy. I’m impressed,” the playful grin you sent Dean’s way was not lost on Sam.

“Yeah, well your husband’s not the only one who can look stuff up around here. Besides, someone had to do the work while you two were off playing Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Sam and I have never tried to kill each other,” you argued.

Dean snorted while grabbing his jacket, “And that’s about the only way your relationship differs.”

When he saw your brows pull together in confusion, Sam quickly cut in to change the subject, “So uh- what’s the plan?”

His brother was nearly out the door when he responded, “Nice and easy. I’ll go burn the bones while you guys go back and distract her with your little love fest, capiche?”

The ghost was surprisingly open this time around, admitting freely to her past crimes and even explaining her methods. Apparently, flirting with the husbands was a routine and easy test to spot any cracks in the relationships, one that she claimed Sam had passed with flying colors. But you knew better than to assume his achievement had anything to do with you. After all, you’d seen the man hold fast against the fervent advances of a high-end stripper before, while he was drunk. This was nothing.

“But why kill them?” Sam questioned, with the kind of genuine curiosity that only he could exhibit towards a murderous monster.

“Because it’s better to die than stay in a loveless marriage… But of course you two wouldn’t underst-“ Dean must have completed his task because the therapist was interrupted by a shapeless black plume bursting through her mouth.

‘Oh Shit,’ you thought relentingly as you watched the spirit eject itself and disappear into a fiery cloud of dark fumes, a forlorn expression upon your face, ‘I’m in love with Sam Winchester.’

→ CARRY ON

thank you for reading! feedback super appreciated!!

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​

STTC TAG TEAM: @matchesarelit​  @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ @gia-25​ @laurakirsten0502​ @ruined-by-destiel​ @sunflowersandotherthings​

[secretobsessionstuff]

Been thinking about Mateo and Shawn lately !! They remind me of myself and my own partner, so I figured maybe i’d... request something based on one of my own experiences. Long story short, I had been with them all day but I was feeling really dizzy and nauseous. I was thinking about my partners gentle way of comforting me, by holding my forehead while i was getting sick or gently running their fingertips on my back. Perhaps you could do something like this with mateo and shawn? Maybe shawn is really out of it and mateo is worried he might bother shawn if he touches him too aggressively (?) i guess? I love their dynamic <33

Thank you all for being patient as I slowly get to requests. This was a super cute one 💕

It was nearing the evening when Shawn started to get tired. As the sun began to set, with golden hour in full swing, he too wanted to dip below the horizon to sleep. He and Mateo had been out all day doing errands and planned to get dinner at a new restaurant, but now Shawn just wanted to go home.

The fatigue and dizziness hit suddenly. It was the nausea that grew steadily stronger as the sun continued to leave for the day. He lazily moved through the store, holding onto the clothing racks to keep himself upright. People must have thought he was drunk with the way he swayed down the aisles.

He eventually found his boyfriend in one of the aisles trying on shoes. Shawn sighed as he found a place to sit next to a pile of shoes that Mateo was considering buying. It was only when he sat down that he realized how weird he felt. He realized that he could have passed out right there if he wanted to. Suddenly his lunch wasn’t sitting so well in his stomach. He looked up at Mateo with half-closed eyes.

“What do you think of these?” Mateo asked as he admired the leather shoes in the mirror.

“You look good in everything,” Shawn said through a yawn, not really looking at the shoes. Still, it wasn’t a lie. Mateo could walk out of here with slippers, and Shawn would be eager to see them kicked off haphazardly at the foot of his bed. Just not today. “Are you almost done? I want to go home soon.”

Mateo spun around, feeling fancy in the new shoes. He wasn’t going to buy them though because he needed more time to decide, and it didn’t look like Shawn had more time – he looked like he was going to fall asleep in the middle of the store. “You don’t want to get dinner at that new Thai place?”

Shawn scrunched up his nose. “My stomach isn’t feeling so good.” The blurriness around his vision wanted to creep closer in, and his head wanted to fall off his shoulder. “Actually, a lot of me isn’t feeling so good.”

After switching the shoes out for his actual pair, Mateo sat on the bench and looked into his boyfriend’s eyes which were bloodshot and glassy. He touched the back of his hand to Shawn’s forehead and pulled back in surprise. “It does feel like you a small fever.”

Shawn groaned and let his head fall on Mateo’s shoulder. “My eyes are burning and I’m dizzy. Will you drive?”

Mateo helped his boyfriend up. “Sure. Anything else bothering you?” It was tough not to fall back into the script that he used for patients, but Shawn didn’t seem to care.

“My stomach.”

“You already said that.”

“Well, it really hurts,” he whined, only half joking because his stomach really was in knots. “Add short term memory loss to the list.”

Getting in the car did not sound like a fun time, but Shawn did so anyway. The ride wasn’t as bad as he thought because he fell asleep before Mateo left the parking lot.

Mateo enjoyed the quiet drive back. Shawn’s car drove smoothly and silently, letting his boyfriend stay asleep the whole time. That might have been a testament to how Shawn was feeling rather than the car’s performance, however. Mateo snuck glances at Shawn’s paler than normal face. The tattoo on his neck stood out even more against the ashen skin.

“We’re here,” Mateo said as he parked the car. Shawn stayed asleep. “Babe, wake up.”

The snoring continued so Mateo got out of the car and came around to the passenger side. He unbuckled Shawn’s seat belt and felt the heat rolling off his body. “Oh boy, you’re really warm,” Mateo mumbled to himself, but it seemed to have startled Shawn from his sleep.

Shawn looked around and squinted. The first thing he registered was the fresh new wave of nausea coursing through his veins. With Mateo’s help, they walked to the door. Shawn’s legs really wanted to buckle under him. “Fuck, that nap did not help. I feel so much worse.”

“Yeah, your fever’s gotten worse too,” Mateo said as he opened the door for his boyfriend. “How’s your stomach?”

“Sick. I think I might puke.”

“You could wait for me in the bathroom while I put our groceries away.” Mateo set their bags down on the counter. “I want to take your temp—or you can crash on the couch. That works too,” he said as he watched Shawn fall onto the soft cushions.

With the thermometer and a bucket, Mateo joined Shawn on the couch. He wasn’t asleep, surprisingly. The grimace on his face told Mateo that he was too nauseous to sleep. His body took up most the couch so Mateo gently lifted Shawn’s head and placed it on his own lap.

Shawn moaned as he was jostled around. When he was settled back down on Mateo’s legs, he let out a heavy exhale. Even while lying down, the room felt like it was spinning around his head.

“Sorry, hon,” Mateo said softly. “Will you put this under your tongue?”

While Shawn held the thermometer in his mouth, Mateo ran his hands through his boyfriend’s hair. He hated hearing Shawn’s heavy breathing which served as a reminder that he was miserable. Mateo decided he would keep gliding his fingers through Shawn’s hair until his breathing slowed down or until the thermometer beeped. Whichever came first.

The thermometer beeped first. The device told him that Shawn’s temperature was sitting just below 102°F. It wasn’t terrible but not great. Still, Mateo never liked to treat anything under 103°F. This was the body’s way of curing itself. Of course, Shawn’s body had other plans to deal with whatever was making him sick, but that was a more unpleasant process.

Shawn groaned and squirmed around on Mateo’s lap. He wanted to stay where he was because Mateo’s fingers felt great, but the nausea was reaching its peak. His belly gurgled loudly, making him curl in on himself.

Mateo heard the gurgled and felt his boyfriend tense up beneath his hand. “Are you gonna be sick? Need the bucket?”

With a hand over his mouth, Shawn nodded quickly. He lifted himself up with his arm, careful not to elbow Mateo in the crotch. He reached for the bucket, but his beautiful boyfriend held it up to his mouth so that he didn’t have to. Shawn still grabbed one side, just to help him aim and to keep him from falling off the couch.

He gagged emptily at first, making his whole body shudder. The nausea filled his mouth with saliva and caused his jaw to quiver. Another gag caught in his throat.

“I’ve got you, just let it happen,” Mateo said while holding the bucket steady. He could feel the strain that it had on Shawn’s body just from the way he shook.

Shawn gagged one last time before a real wave of sick came rushing up his throat. He lurched forward from the force of the heave. With his eyes squeezed shut and tears gathering on his lashes, he heard the splatter of sick as it hit the bottom of the bucket.

A mix between a cough and a heavy exhale followed a wet burp. Shawn’s chest moved rapidly as he tried to catch his breath in between retches. “Ugh everything hurts, Teo.”

Mateo’s go-to choice of comfort in this instance would be to rub Shawn’s back or stomach but he hesitated when he heard the pain in the boy’s voice. Shawn’s body was already tense and flooded with misery; he didn’t know if his boyfriend wanted to be touch that much. In the past there had been times when Shawn was too overwhelmed for any extra stimuli. Sometimes he couldn’t stand having his shirt rub against his skin when he was sick.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Mateo said gently, with his free hand hovering awkwardly in the air. “Will it help if I rub your back?”

Shawn swallowed thickly, aware that a second bout was coming. “Maybe. Can you do it lightly…you know, like the tracing.”

Mateo knew exactly what he was talking about. Sometimes when neither of them could sleep, they took turns tracing shapes on each other’s back with their fingertips. It started out as a game to guess the pictures, but it quickly turned into random patterns that left goosebumps on their arms.

With the lightest touch, Mateo started at the top of Shawn’s spine and slowly worked his way down. Then he circled back up to the base of his neck, taking his time to make each touch gentle.

When he felt the muscles in Shawn’s back tense up, he quickly lifted his hand in fear that he hurt him. Shawn just belched up another gush into the bucket. Without a second to breathe, he was bringing up the next wave of stomach contents. Shawn gasped for air and went right back into it with a groan.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be over soon,” Mateo whispered as resumed his gentle tracing.

For a long time, Mateo kept up the gentle movement of his hands, even when the vomiting seemed to have tapered off into plain old hellish nausea. It’s the worst feeling of still being nauseous when the puking stops, but that’s the land where Shawn found himself after wiping the bile from his lips.

Physically exhausted, Shawn slumped back down on Mateo’s lap. His throat was raw and his abdomen screamed from the work. Every breath hurt. But the one thing that made it easier to deal with was the pitter patter of soft fingertips on his back. It reminded him of peaceful rain during an afternoon nap.

“That feels nice,” he sighed and closed his eyes.

Mateo smiled. He kept his voice low because he could see that Shawn’s breathing was slowing down. “Do you feel better?”

“A little.” Shawn yawned. “I could actually fall asleep.”

“Then fall asleep. I won’t stop.”

Mateo was pleased that he didn’t hear a response. He was pleased to hear Shawn’s breathing even out. As promised, he danced his fingertips across his boyfriend’s back, at least until he too fell asleep.

[ineloqueent]

party for one

Roger Taylor x Reader

synopsis: you’re not excited about your birthday, and have thus decided not to tell anyone about it. but then Roger finds out, and refuses to let it go.

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 2.8k

see moodboard here!

⭒

December, 1979

Turning thirty was not something you looked forward to.

It was a big number, the number at which everyone expected you to have your life together, be married and have children, have a steady job.

Well, you could check one of those boxes.

As the newly-appointed tour photographer for Queen, you were well-liked, and thus had no fears of unemployment in the near future.

You’d gotten quite close with the members of Queen over the past month, during the aptly-named Crazy Tour, sharing late nights and early mornings with the four musicians. Late nights and early mornings had a funny way of bringing out the true personalities of people, because lack of sleep meant that no one had a filter, and your mutual exhaustion had made you the best of friends with the band you were travelling with.

You liked to go dancing with John, when nobody else would, because Brian couldn’t dance for the life of him, and Roger hated disco, and Freddie was often busy.

You went with Brian to the science museums he wanted to visit in many of the cities where you stopped, because everyone else had had enough of his rambling. Brian was talkative when he was talking about something he cared about, and it was a sort of reprieve for you not to be the one talking— to tour managers, to publicists, to press, to the lighting department who spoke in riddles, to the security guards in various nations that did not speak English.

Freddie loved shopping, for anything and everything, and was ever so pleased to have a companion on his many expeditions in search of rare records, paintings, clothes.

And Roger… Well, Roger. What could you say about Roger?

Roger was the in-between moments. Not that he wasn’t around— because he was, and practically everywhere you looked— but because whenever things seemed to slow down, or grow drearily quiet, or when you stood at the eye of the storm that was the never-ending flood of work that came as part of your employment with Queen, Roger was there, with an easy smile and a striking insightfulness.

He became the quiet moments when he took you to see strange, foreign films on off-nights, showed you forgotten corners of sprawling cities across the continents, or called you over to read you a quote from whatever book was currently occupying his headspace.

One such night, you were sitting in the games room of a hotel, cleaning one of your cameras, as Brian and John attempted to beat one another’s pinball scores, as Freddie sat watching telly with a few friends, and a handful of crew members played an intense game of pool.

You had taken a seat on one of the two sofas in the room, leaving ample space, should someone else want to sit down, but Roger occupied an entire couch to himself, feet up at one armrest, head at the other. He’d been wearing headphones, plugged into a brand-new Sony Walkman portable cassette player, the one which both band and crew had gawked over when he’d first bought it, back in July. But now he took the headphones off, mussing his blonde hair— recently cropped— and sat up.

“Hey,” he said, and you looked up. “Come listen to this.”

With a small sigh, you carefully deposited your camera on the coffee table, and crossed over to the other side of the space to join Roger.

You flopped down at his side, and he looped his arm through yours, pushing his reading glasses up on his nose before softly clearing his throat.

“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people,” he read quietly, “and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?”

“I don’t—”

“Shh,” Roger peered at you over his glasses, nudging your shoulder with his, “I’m not finished.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, sorry. Go on, then.”

“It’s the too-huge world vaulting us,” Roger continued, “and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Roger smiled. “It’s us,” he said, and then said nothing more, until you relaxed into his side and sat there with him as he read in silence, and your eyes fell shut and your mind fell into a dream.

With the days, the tour went on, and as the date of your birthday approached, you took great care to pretend that it did not.

But your birthday had always been an ordeal for you, and you weren’t doing particularly well at hiding the sense of impending doom that came over you, when there was only a week until the day.

John noticed, that much was obvious, but said nothing, ever respectful of your personal matters as you were of his.

Brian noticed, but only asked what was wrong in such a roundabout way that you felt inclined to say he had not noticed at all, or was too polite to ask directly.

Freddie noticed, and asked outright what was bothering you, but he did so right before going onstage, and refused to perform before you had answered his question. So you answered, albeit untruthfully, with a hurried, “Nothing!” to make him get the fuck onstage.

And Roger noticed.

He caught your arm the day before your birthday, as they were all departing the stage in the wake of raucous cheers, a towel slung around his neck as he caught his breath from the physical exertion that was playing the drums. He pulled you off to the side before you could protest, before Freddie and the others could drag the both of you off to some party, and looked at you in such a way you thought he’d stare right through your very heart.

“What?!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, folding his arms with an inquisitive expression.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

Roger snorted. “‘Course it is. You’ve been like this for weeks. What’s the matter?”

You shrugged your shoulders in discomfort, avoiding his gaze. “It’s—”

“If you say nothing one more time, I’ll go get Brian and ask him to explain zodiacal light, and we’ll be stood here for literal hours before we can get any sort of food or drink or bed. So spit it out, because I worry about you, and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He stared you down, and you felt a sudden compulsion to embrace him for having cared enough to ask about you, to take the time to ask about you.

With a heavy sigh, you conceded your secrets to him, as simply as had you been a book he’d opened, intending to read from cover to cover.

“It’s my birthday—”

He frowned, “When?”

“Tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow?” Roger balked. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell us? We would have organised something!”

“No, no, I don’t want you to make a fuss—”

“Well, what if I want to make a fuss?”

“You want to—”

He grasped your hand, and with the contact, your heart clenched. “You deserve to be fussed over,” he told you, earnestly. “Don’t you get that?”

Your mouth had fallen open, and you now pressed your lips together, glancing down at the floor.

“No,” you mumbled. “I don’t get that.”

“And so you’ve been living your life wrong,” said Roger. “Get that into your head, love.”

It was strange, how words so simple could strike a chord, but there was a lump in your throat when you swallowed, and when you nodded, you couldn’t look at him.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m sure you’re as tired as I am.”

You nodded again, avoiding his eyes, and he set off.

He didn’t let go of your hand.

You didn’t mind.

And as testament to Roger’s assertion, when you had parted from him and gone to your hotel room, you’d changed and fallen asleep as soon as your head had hit the pillow.

The following day was your birthday, and a day without a scheduled show, so you slept in. No one would miss you for a few hours, you thought, and indeed, no knocks roused you from your sleep until you got up, well into the afternoon.

You ran into Freddie in the hallway, and, suddenly possessed by the notion that you should do something fun on your birthday, even if no fuss was to be made, you asked Freddie if he wanted to go with you to see a movie, and where the others were, should they wish to come as well.

“No, sorry darling, I’ve got a thousand things to do before tomorrow, and I’m afraid I’ve got no idea where anyone else is.” He pursed his lips. “In fact, I’ve been looking for those three idiots for the better part of an hour.”

“That’s… rather strange,” you said, in all honesty.

“Rather,” Freddie agreed. Then he clasped his hands. “I’m going to keep looking for them, if you don’t mind. But enjoy your film, and I’ll see you at dinner?”

Your heart dropped, but of course, the great Freddie Mercury was a busy man, so naturally, this was to be expected. “See you at dinner,” you replied, and let him be on his way.

You wandered the hotel for a little while, perhaps ten minutes or so, before you came upon Brian, who had pink-flushed cheeks and wore quite the coat— bulky, and oddly overstuffed, like some sort of armchair.

“Hey,” you said in greeting. “Freddie’s looking for you.”

“Freddie’s— oh, is he? Right. Well. Better find him then before he loses his temper, ha ha.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Are you okay, Brian?”

“What?” he folded his arms around his body, in an awkward fashion, because he was clearly not accustomed to the bulk upon his frame. “Nothing. I mean, yes, I’m fine, yes. I’ll go find Fred.”

And then he hurried down the hall, before you could open your mouth to ask him if he was free to go see a film.

“Never mind,” you muttered, and proceeded in the direction you had been going before.

Two down, two left. This was truly going to be a rotten birthday, if you were to go to see a film on your own. Not that there was anything wrong with that, aside from the glaring fact that you didn’t actually feel like being alone.

You found Deacy in the lobby, leaning his elbows on the counter as he called to the person using the phone in the adjacent room.

Approaching him, you realised he was talking to— or rather, talking at— Roger, who had leaned out of the room, one hand covering the mouthpiece of the telephone.

Roger’s gaze met with yours briefly, before his eyes widened and he hissed to John something that sounded distinctly like shut up.

John saw you then, and smiled as you approached.

“Hello, Y/N. How’s it going?”

“Fine,” you responded airly, feigning a happy demeanour. “You?”

“Lovely,” said John. “Just getting Rog to make a few phone calls about the next show.”

You shook your head, puzzled. “The next show?”

“Mmyes. There was a mix-up with some gear, last time, so we thought we’d get onto it ourselves, so we know exactly what’s going on. Hands-on, you know?”

“Yeah,” you answered slowly, though in actual fact this made absolutely no sense to you, and you were sure that it made no sense to the person who had spoken it.

“Finished, Roger?” John called back to his friend, his tone more warning than inquisitive. You wondered why.

A muffled, bell-like sound announced that Roger had hung up the phone.

“Finished,” he affirmed, adjusting his round-lens sunglasses.

“Well,” said Deacy, “I’ll be off, then. See you later, Y/N.” He raised his hand in a wave, and disappeared around the corner.

You blinked at his sudden departure, then turned to Roger and asked your question before he could disappear as well.

“Rog, come see a film with me?”

Roger was pulling on an overcoat, and promptly shook his head. “Can’t. Sorry, love.”

Your fingers caught on his sleeve as he passed you, and he stopped.

“Please,” you murmured. “I know I said I didn’t want a fuss, but it’s my birthday. Come with me?”

Roger shook his head again, squeezing your hands in his. “I really can’t,” he said. At least he had the decency to look apologetic. You supposed that was something. “But I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You tried not to sound too dejected, but truth be told, you were crushed. “Yeah, tonight.”

“Alright, then. Well, I’d better be off.” His grip gentle on your forearms, he tugged you forward and kissed your cheek, and you blushed beneath the touch of his lips to your skin, at the warmth that passed from him to you. Drawing back, he winked, let your hands fall, and was gone as well.

You went to see the film on your own.

And then you saw another. And another, just for the hell of it.

By the time you returned to the hotel, it was dark, and you found no one anywhere once more. Until you more or less crashed into John on the landing.

“Blimey, good you’re here!” he said breathlessly. “You’ve got to come quickly. Something’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” you asked. “What do you mean, wrong? Is everyone alright? Is someone hurt?”

John shook his head. “No, no. Just… Come on. You’ll want to see this.”

“See what—”

He more or less dragged you down the hall, until you reached the games room, and ground to a halt.

“In there.”

“The games room?” you said dubiously.

Deacy nodded. He stepped aside, indicating you should open the door.

Eyeing him warily, you reached for the door handle, and pushed it down. The room was dark—

And then abruptly, it was not.

Streamers burst forth, and twinkling fairy lights glinted off of the faces of your friends— Brian, Freddie, Roger, and smattering of crew— smiling from behind a table piled with all sorts of food. Food, and presents.

“Surprise!” came the cry, and you barked a laugh, half in surprise, half in disbelief at your stupidity for not having seen this coming.

“I— thank you,” you said, just as Freddie blew a party horn, to the dismay of those standing immediately beside him. You laughed again, “How did you manage all of this… with such short notice?”

Brian grinned. “It was all Roger.”

“And your bulky coat?” you asked.

“I was carrying bags of ice,” Brian admitted, to a chorus of laughter. “I was cold, okay, but I couldn’t let you see it, so I had to get away from you as quickly as possible. Sorry if that came off as rude.”

You merely laughed once again, then turned to Deacy, who stood beside you. “And, John?”

“Head of organisation,” he said. “Though it was Roger’s master plan.”

“Freddie?”

“What do you think, darling? I did all the shopping,” he swept his arm in a grand gesture, indicating the food and the presents.

“Oh, come off it, Fred,” Roger scoffed, pushing past Crystal. “Not all of the shopping.” Roger now stood before you, and, inclining his head, he handed you a rectangular package, wrapped in butcher paper and white string. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said.

“Thanks, Rog,” you smiled, as you felt yourself be filled with a happiness you had long since thought gone.

“Go on. Open it.”

You looked down at the parcel in your hands, then began to tug at the string.

“We haven’t got all night,” called Freddie. “There’s cake for you as well, so hurry up!”

You glanced at Roger. He shrugged. You tore the paper from the present, and let it fall to the ground.

In your hands you held a first-edition copy of Lord of the Rings.

You gaped. “But how did you—”

“Made some phone calls,” said Roger modestly.

Without a way of putting your gratitude into words, you threw your arms around him, so forcefully that he stumbled backward, before he wrapped his arms around you as well, chuckling.

“Thank you,” you murmured, as someone started a record on the nearby deck, and the party was set into motion.

“You deserve to be fussed over,” he murmured back.

And if it was possible, you hugged him even more tightly, for once at home in this quiet, strange world, with its triumphs and its downfalls, and its in-between moments.

With its Roger moments.

Yes, that was what they were. There was no in-between when Roger was in your world.

And he knew that for as long as you would let him, he would damn well stay.

[giasonesdream]

nouveau riche non accueilli (E)

Pairing: Lee Minho (Lee Know) x fem!Reader

Characters: Lee Minho, Han Jisung, Yang Jeongin, Bang Chan (mentioned), Hwang Hyunjin (mentioned)

Summary: Nearly a year ago, Lee Minho signed his soul over to a demon in order to gain wealth through his writing. Shortly after, you come along, the half-demon half-human sent to watch him, make sure he doesn’t break the contract early. The newly famous author is invited to a masquerade ball, and you’re the only person he could possibly ask to accompany him.

Excerpt: “Pretty sure Old Money vs New Money is one of those universal issues.” He takes the mask from your grasp, tossing both back onto the bed before grabbing the black velvet tie that had been laid out with the rest of his suit. 

“But you’re not New Money.” You slide in front of the mirror, obstructing his view when he turns back around. Nevertheless, he still tries to see around you. Slithering further into his personal space, you can smell his body wash. It’s not the typical woody scent that men tend to go for, but it still smells sinful, like something that could make anyone fall over themselves. But you’re sure Minho had that effect on people even before…

“You’re Blood Money,” you hiss sinisterly. “Demon Money. You sold your soul for this life, this penthouse suite, the opportunity to dine with South Korea’s most famous clans.”

Warnings: oral sex, mirror sex (ish)...think minho curses, like, once in the entire fic

Word Count: 6.858k (too fucking long)

“I like this mask more,” you state simply, holding up the intricate black mask, ornate with gold designs etched into the plastic. Holding it close to Minho’s solemn expression, you smile. “Wanna make sure we can see those delicious lips.”

He rolls his eyes, and you watch in satisfaction as those lips part to take in and exhale a heavy sigh; exasperate, no doubt. 

You remember where you were when Minho had received his invitation to The Han Clan’s Masquerade Ball. Your favourite tub sat stand-alone in the en-suite of the second master bedroom. While the master bedroom you normally shared with Minho had a wall of windows to overlook Gangnam, this bathroom had a window big enough for you to see the passing traffic on busy Korean highways. At night, the red brake lights and warm headlights were entrancing. So that’s where you were, soaking in warm bubbles with soothing scents of apple ginger, when Minho knocked calmly on the half opened door.

He moved slowly, like he was afraid one wrong move could scare you away...or make you lash out (in the 9 months of your relationship with the man, it was still hard to tell). With his eyes trained on yours, he lowered himself until he sat on the marble floor right outside the tub. The small candles lining the rim performed a beautiful dance with the reflections on his face, licking across his nose, caressing up his cheeks, sliding across his lips. You were so weak for his lips.

You only realized belatedly, as he hesitated with the card clenched in his fingers, that he must have had some news for you. With the amount of patience you could muster, you only managed to keep your eyes loud as you raised your brows, waiting for him to speak.

“I got invited to Han Jisung’s birthday party. A masquerade ball.” 

You didn’t entirely understand his tightness, nor did you want to divulge in what his worries must be. All you knew was that there’s probably an option for a Plus One, and there’s no one Minho could have possibly picked to go with him other than you.

So you smiled, baring teeth in a manner you learned to be kind, maybe even comforting. “That’s fantastic, honey! And are you, perhaps, in search of a date for this?”

Whatever thoughts troubled him seemed to ease away in that moment, just a little. You learned quickly that Minho liked your forwardness, found something attractive about how confident you could be in yourself and him. 

He smirked, blinking up under his lashes. “Do you want to accompany me, (Y/N), to this ball?”

You threw your head back dramatically, sliding further into the bath as one leg lifted from the clouds of bubbles. “Lee Minho! A man after my heart.”

That was a month ago, and the night had come. With the summer still fighting its way until autumn officially came, 7pm found you just enough light coming in through that wall of windows in your bedroom. You had emerged from the bathroom, freshly clean from your shower and pampering to find Minho with half his suit on, holding two different masks in his hands. You, being the gracious...whatever you were to this man, decided to help him make this seemingly tough decision. 

And all he could do was roll his eyes at you. Rude, much?

“I believe the correct response is, ‘Thank you, baby’.” You shake your head violently, waving in front of yourself. “No, wait, okay. Let’s try this again.” Clearing your throat, you hold up the mask again, as you did a moment prior. “I like this mask more. Wanna make sure we can see those-”

“(Y/N)...” groans an ill-tempered Minho. No, not ill-tempered. Anxious. He picks his next words carefully, surely knowing your expression is challenging of his short fuse. “How...how good is your French?”

Surprisingly enough, your first job was in France. But that guy hadn’t lasted more than 3 months before breaking the contract. Minho doesn’t need to know that, though. You shrug.

“C'est pas terrible,” you respond.

The man nods. “So, then, you know the term ‘nouveau riche’,” he assumes. 

You understand him quickly and begin to snicker in incredulity. “Do people really care about that here?”

“Pretty sure Old Money vs New Money is one of those universal issues.” He takes the mask from your grasp, tossing both back onto the bed before grabbing the black velvet tie that had been laid out with the rest of his suit. 

“But you’re not New Money.” You slide in front of the mirror, obstructing his view when he turns back around. Nevertheless, he still tries to see around you. Slithering further into his personal space, you can smell his body wash. It’s not the typical woody scent that men tend to go for, but it still smells sinful, like something that could make anyone fall over themselves. But you’re sure Minho had that effect on people even before…

“You’re Blood Money,” you hiss sinisterly. “Demon Money. You sold your soul for this life, this penthouse suite, the opportunity to dine with South Korea’s most famous clans.”

Instead of replying, the ash blond only gives you a pointed look, and you can hear your name without him even having to open his pretty mouth.

“What? I’m just saying, you’re not New Money. You’re in a league of your own.” 

“And you don’t have to remind me. Having a half-breed concubine is reminder enough.” He huffs in frustration after fussing with his tie. 

And clearly it shows a testament to your feelings for him, as his words sober you some. Truthfully, being a half-demon person working with Soul Contracts means trying to get the poor bastard that sold their soul in the first place to break said contract. You’re not even sure when you gave up actually trying to do so (perhaps it was when Minho bought this penthouse and you got to take a bath in that tub). Regardless, Lee Minho, and his desperate desire to be a nationally recognized and respected author, intrigued you. 

In the silence, you instinctively reached out, fixing his tie and making sure it looks as pristine as the rest of him. 

“Tch,” you scoff, mumbling under your breath. “Concubine. You think so little of me.” 

Maybe you’re aware of it, maybe not, but Minho catches when you hide your face, keeping your eyes focused on the way your fingers twist and pull at the velvet fabric. Very rarely do you get embarrassed or shy, and like hell would you ever admit to his words making you do so. Even if there’s little merit to your words, it’s unspoken, the way you guys can resolve conflicts.

He stands there quietly, watching over you in the mirror, staring at his reflection because even now, with almost a year with his new life, he still does not recognize himself. Sure, that is his face looking back at him, but the memories that associate with this body he is in seem like someone else’s, not his own. But selling your soul didn’t necessarily make you soulless...did it?

Satisfied with the perfection of the tie as it sits against his chest, you smile proudly.

“Thank you, baby,” Minho says in a hum, low in his throat. It’s a tempting tone to use, but you scrunch your nose.

“Yeah, yeah. I have to get ready, now.”

It’s another hour before you actually leave the apartment, unable to dress quickly when his fingers pulled languidly on the zipper of your dress, using any excuse to press himself to your back and skate his lips behind your ear. And he insisted on helping you with your jewelry, making sure the gold necklace sat perfectly, holding your hands with care as he slid rings over your digits. 

Granted, now that the car is nearing the party venue, you may have misjudged his teasing touches. For how he sits next to you in the backseat, unrhythmically punching the leather underneath him. It’s clear that he is willing to stall in any way, if it means not having to face the lion’s den.

And what a den, it was. Long ago you decided to never question the strings that rich people could pull. But this doesn’t stop your mind from going over the possible accounts that could excuse why one 20 year old man was able to close the National Museum of Korea. You were taken to the front of one of many buildings where the party was taking place. There were a line of cars, as people of importance stepped out and walked the pathway littered with random paparazzi and photo ops. 

In probably the best way you can think to soothe him in this moment, you reach for his fist, giving it a quick squeeze until his hand unfurled, and you were able to slide your hand into his grasp.

Your car was quick to approach the front, and the driver quickly came out to open the door for you. Luckily, Minho’s face was the first any reporter would see, as he was the distinguished guest. The planner greeted him kindly, following you as well once you finally stepped out. She directed you, telling you that you guys could just go through, “but walk slowly”. 

Minho’s grip on your waist was tight, and you dare a glance to see if his expression was as apprehensive as his touch felt. Fortunately, he had mastered this stern yet soft look. Approachable enough for people not to automatically reject his presence. 

The tread to the front door was quick, and you know this is where the real horror starts. 

The fact of the matter is that, even with Lee Minho’s name plastered on South Korea’s best selling novel of “fiction”, he still did not have the power that came with being a part of one of the few clans that make up The True Elite. And the question is if his newly obtained status would garner him disgust or apathy?

Once you go through the doors, you pull him to the side so that the both of you can adorn your masks, now that enough people have seen his face to know he’s here. 

“This is not about Old or New Money, now,” you say. “We’re all anonymous. So try to enjoy the night.”

He nods, exhaling out a final breath of stress before turning to face the crowd, holding out his arm for you to take.

The lobby is pure brilliance, the windows on the ceiling that normally act as skylight shows a dark, navy sky. The warm lights illuminate the room, accentuating the cool marble walls and clean lines of the interior design. With a sea of masked individuals, you feel like you were transported in time. So many rich fabrics in hues of crimson, violet, and shadowed black move in front of your eyes. And the glints of diamonds, rubies, pearls, shine like their own stars strewn across delicate skin. 

Then there is Lee Minho, who seems to stand out in your eyes (but you might be biased). His suit is a mix of black velvet and sleek wool. Just as you accented your simple black gown with gold jewelry, he has done the same. His brown hair of light cool tones is slicked back, away from his forehead. And, of course, there’s always his lips. Shaped down and full, pouty, innocent, the skin is soft and silky to the touch. They’re always so inviting when you allow yourself to stare for so long. Before you know it, you’re already turning to stand in front of him. He watches your movements then, eyes previously on the grandiose room, now following the upward curl of your mouth as you reach further-

“Mr. Lee,” a voice calls, greets from behind you. You turn back, and even with his mask on, you recognize this young man.

Yang Jeongin was the youngest member of the Yang Clan, and one of South Korea’s precious baby boys. He recently got his braces removed, but even still, his jaw is a very memorable shape, and his white mask forms comfortable to the width of his cheekbones and sparkling eyes. He had been very vocal in public media about enjoying Minho’s novel, and is certainly one of the reasons said novel was able to span over a wide, diverse audience. 

“Ah, Mr. Yang,” Minho goes to bow, but Jeongin is quick to stop him, worry in those glittering brown eyes beneath his mask. 

“Oh, no! Please! You’re older than me, Mr. Lee. You don’t have to bow. I have to say, when Jisung told me he’d invited you, I was so excited. I’m kind of shocked this is our first time meeting since you published My Deal With The Devil.”

Minho smiles shyly, biting at his lower lip. “Well, after the book ranked, my manager, here, was quick to book me for some scheduled events to promote the book all over the country.”

At the mention of you, Jeongin looks at you with a wide smile that you’ve only ever seen in magazines and on the television.

“Yes! (Y/N), right? You’ve been working hard for your author.” He bows, and you mirror the gesture with a smile of your own. 

“He’s been very easy to manage.”

“I can imagine. Would you allow me to be your chaperone for the evening?”

The question is enough to take you and Minho off guard as you both share a look before turning back. 

“Surely, it should be the other way around,” you reply. “Who’s looking after the nation’s child?”

With such an infectious laugh, you can’t help but grin. “Actually, a lot of the clans’ youngests are chaperoning tonight. So it would be my honour.”

Again, you and Minho exchange a glance, simultaneously shrugging before looking back at the young man. 

“Point me to the finger foods, Mr. Yang,” you express animatedly. As Jeongin holds his arm out, you give Minho’s a firm squeeze before letting go. He doesn’t follow as Jeongin takes you to the table across the room, which seems like a good sign.

Little do you know, though, is that before he can follow, he’s already being pulled into another conversation. 

The night flows rather smoothly, you being happy to walk around, weave in and out of the crowd and smile at those that return the sentiment. Down the darkened hallway, there are open rooms where there would normally be digital galleries. From the lobby, it’s easy to see the coloured light that illuminates from each. Jeongin had explained to you that the birthday boy had the idea of theming the masquerade as The Masque of The Red Death, a piece of American literature you remember reading in your younger years.

“Aptly themed,” you had responded wryly.

So now you look at these rooms, wondering if you should visit them alone, or if you should try to find your date and go with him. The red room calls to you, however, and you decide then, with your heels numbed from your red stilettos, that you would visit just this one. The room that supposedly met the king to his inevitable death. 

“Is it you, Lee Minho?”

Minho swallows the champagne he’d been sipping at the sound of his name, once again. He was not expecting to be recognized so easily, or to hear of so many eager of his presence. Maybe you had been right, to some extent, about Old and New Money not being an issue of the night. 

The man that spoke to him wears red from head to toe. Red mask with black and gold lace, a ruby stud in one ear and gold chain lining the other, red shiny suit with gold cufflinks, and a gold ring that Minho knows has been passed down through this clan for generations. Han Jisung.

“Yes! And is this the birthday boy?” He bows, showing respect. Much unlike Yang Jeongin, Han Jisung carries himself with pride, as he does carry his title. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Han.”

“Thank you, thank you. I hope you’re enjoying the party. Truthfully, your novel was quite inspiring. It reminded me of the short story Edgar Allen Poe wrote, The Masque of The Red Death. You ever read it?”

Minho nods excitedly. “Of course! If Poe manages to escape the clutches of any middle school, it’s certainly a crime.”

When Jisung grins, his teeth are white, perfect, intimidating. Even though he stands an inch or so shorter than Minho, his attitude is overwhelming and spans skyscrapers. 

“How has life been since you returned from your promotion schedule? Are you taking time before writing the next novel? What would it be about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Where could you have possibly been? Minho knows if you were here, you’d be the one answering these questions. And, really, it would be quite the show to see two prideful people as you and Jisung are in a heated discussion. 

“Ah,” Minho starts, trying to keep his tone even. Lions can smell fear. “Well, it won’t be an official continuation of My Deal With The Devil, but I’ve started writing about running-”

“Running?” Jisung tilts his head, lips forming in a pout along with what Minho is sure is confusion under his mask.

Your eyes do not take much time to adjust to the darkness of the hallway. The red lights had been encompassing, and your eyes could make out the waves of the light as they coated the walls. And the steady bass of the music playing coaxed up your legs, wrapping around your bare arms and shoulders, creeped up your neck like a hand ready to choke you. Is this what the humans would feel going into the red room? It wasn’t a haunting feeling, necessarily, but it did make you long to be around others again, to feel the light of laughter, to hold onto a familiar man and hear him groan in your ear.

You need to find Minho.

So you don’t let yourself embrace the spritely sounds of the people you walk past until you see the black and gold mask, the sputtering lips and hesitant smile. When you get into earshot, you hear him mention his novel, what he’s writing now.

“Running?” inquires the man in red.

“Excuse me, hello.” You interrupt slyly, immediately connecting yourself to Minho’s side in front of the man he speaks to. 

The man in red doesn’t seem offended by your unexpected presence. He smiles coolly, nodding in your direction.

“This is (Y/N),” Minho introduces, wrapping his arm around your waist. “She’s my manager. And the best person to discuss my future writings with, if I’m being honest.” Even if his words are even, you can feel his relief. “(Y/N), this is the man of the hour, Han Jisung.”

The light clicks, and you grin widely, gesturing in respect. “Prince Prospero himself. I hope you’re having a lovely birthday, Mr. Han.”

“Everyone is here beautifully, so yes, I am having a great night. I was just asking about Mr. Lee’s new story. The first work of fiction has left the country wanting to see his satiating words.”

“Since he’s still writing, the destination of where the next novel will end is really up in the air, at the moment.”

“Is there any possibility the manuscript could find its way over to Han’s Publishing House?”

Of course. Why hadn’t you seen this potentially coming before? The Han Clan has a variety of well-standing, successful industries taking inhabitants in Korea’s major cities. Han’s Publishing House was standing tall in the heart of Seoul, close to the Gold Towers that taunts civilians as well as give them hope. 

And as rising a success story as Lee Minho, of course the clan would have their eyes out for the pretty prize. 

You lick your lips, giving a calculated smile as your eyes pierce through your mask. “Unfortunately Lee Minho is signed with Bultaneun Peiji Publishing for the next four years. We’d mourn breaking such a contract so early, and it wouldn’t look good for Minho’s image.”

Jisung lifts his head slightly, letting you know he understands you. “Bang Clan’s publishing company, right. I don’t wish to speak ill of them. I have personally worked with the heir of Bang’s Clan, Chan. But given they’re a smaller company, it could be quite limiting.”

“On the contrary,” you start. “Since Bang’s heir was raised in Australia, it gives Minho the option to become international. That is, if he wishes.” If your presence hadn’t been an insult initially, your saccharine tone is assuring that Jisung’s feelings changed. “Besides, since Minho is, as you know, a novice to the publishing industry, having a more intimate community will allow him to grow strong and sturdy, like our pine trees that remain vibrant even in the harshest of conditions.”

Jisung’s eyes dart between you and the author at your side. In his contemplative silence, he observes the thumb that mindlessly rubs at your waist. Something seems to come to a realization for the young heir as he smirks.

“You two make a rather unsuspecting yet powerful pair, I must say. Maybe the world should know your name, as well, (Y/N).”

“I don’t have much interest in the spotlight. I’m more than happy to help uplift our Minho, so that his words can be read and mulled over.” You’re not sure if Jisung expected his epiphany to throw you off guard, but it’s satisfying regardless.

“Well, when you’re ready,” Jisung says, directing his words to the quiet Minho. “The Han Publishing House will have an offer for you. Until then, I will anticipate the works you come out with. Excuse me.”

You and Minho bow as the heir makes his exit, walking into the mouth of the hungry sea of anonymous partiers. 

“Why was that so tense?” Minho utters, moving to stand in front of you, his hand moving accordingly.

“I’m sorry. I should have known he’d try to snatch you away. I’m sure that wasn’t the only reason he invited you, but if his surname is anything to go by, he’s an opportunist like his family.”

From then, you hardly leave Minho’s side, dancing with him as the melodies of the live band play, some instrumental pieces, music not too loud so as not to over power the conversation going on. When you come close to the darkened hallway again, Minho pulls you along, taking you through the seven rooms.

Despite not having read the story for many years, every room reminds you of the words that were described. There aren’t many guests in one room at a time, and the seclusion puts you in the mood of intimacy. By the time you walk into the orange room, your ears are sensitive, just as your skin. The warmth of Minho’s fingers running up your arm is titillating, and you long to rid the slight obstruction your mask provides so that you can witness the young author in the vibrance of the orange light. This room has some static, possibly alluding the rooms to come, but it only adds to the growing desire to make like the waves on his face and touch everything.

“Let’s skip the white room,” you suggest softly. 

The blond acquiesces without delay as you leave orange, going straight to violet. In the room of purple tones, the gold of his mask stands brilliantly, alluring with the complementary tones. Is it wrong to say this is where he belongs? 

The music that surrounds you is threatening in a low way, like watching a scary movie and anticipating the monster to take the protagonist (and audience) by surprise. Except, nothing is a surprise here. This is where Minho belongs, and his wandering eyes make you realize who the monster is. Of course, you are where you’re supposed to be, with him, in this room.

With the desire growing rampant, you finally grab his neck, guiding his face until your lips connect in a kiss. It starts off harsh and bruising, desperate. But he’s pliable, and opens so easily, encouraging your wanton yearnings. 

“Seriously, (Y/N),” Minho heaves when he can pull away. “Right now?”

He’s right. You know he’s right. You contemplate a teasing remark because you’re never one to consent quietly.

“Maybe it’s time for us to make our exit. Shall we say our goodbyes to Mr. Han?”

Minho smirks. “I should probably go by myself. You go find Jeongin and pay our respects for both of us.”

“Sounds like a plan, baby,” you agree menacingly. 

As you leave, you pass by the final room, the scarlet room that sparked these urges. And once you get back to the lobby, you part ways with promises to meet at the front door.

Jeongin is one of the few wearing a white mask, so it’s fairly easy to find him. He’s currently standing by the open bar, holding a glass of red wine. It doesn’t make sense that he’s already old enough to drink. You make a joke of it once you stand by him.

“Ah, (Y/N)! I was going to come find you, actually. How are you and Mr. Lee fairing?”

“We’re just about to leave. I wanted to come by and let you know that you’re free of your chaperone duties.” This makes Jeongin chuckle, taking a sip of his wine before answering.

“Well, it was lovely meeting you and Mr. Lee in person, finally. I hope to see you guys in the future. Have a wonderful rest of your night.”

“You, as well, Jeongin.”

You turn to leave when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Actually, (Y/N),” Jeongin stops you. “I almost forgot to tell you.” He lifts his mask off, leaning close so that he can speak low.

“Hyunjin says ‘long time, no see’.” For the first time, his grin doesn’t seem as innocent or friendly as you are used to seeing, more Cheshire. At your blank stare, he winks before putting his mask back down. And with a lift of his glass, you turn, making your way to the door.

You try to shake the unfamiliar feeling, trying to calm the hairs that stand on end. You don’t even want to think about how Jeongin could know that name, that person. Suddenly, the mysterious crowd that acted as a euphoric calm all night turns cold. You need to leave as soon as possible.

Seeing Minho at the entrance is a solace, and you school your expressions quickly so he doesn’t notice.

“Is my baby girl ready to leave?” asks Minho in that compelling tone.

In a scoff, you give a smile that reads icy. It’s always your favourite game to play with Minho, like he actually has any control, ever.

“Alright, Mr. Jeong,” you huff to the driver as you slide into the backseat with Minho following suit. You rip off the mask and meet the eyes of the unsuspecting driver. “If you don’t get us back to Gangnam in 40 minutes, you can start looking for another job.”

Minho is quick to diffuse the situation while he closes the car door. “No, you won’t, Jeong. (Y/N), behave yourself.” The delivery of his words are rough, but it only feels like one of many victories for you tonight.

You click your tongue, leaning so your face is mere inches from his. “It’s an hour long drive, and I have some class. I wouldn’t fuck you here without a partition.”

“If you had any class you would control yourself.” Rebuttals the annoyed author. He doesn’t dare to back down when you act in this manner.

Thus, you are the first to break, falling back onto the leather seat, folding your arms like a spoiled child that didn’t get their way.

“Take off that stupid mask,” is your only gripe.

With a chuckle, he does exactly that. “You were the one that picked it out. Now it’s stupid?”

“Duh, it’s covering up your face.” You fight the grin that forms when he coos at your unseemly compliment.

At the late midnight hour, the roads are rather clear, making the drive smooth and soothing. Just as you enjoy watching the highways from above, you like the sights that you can see while on them, looking up at the buildings with rooms lit for one reason or another. 

You’re not sure when it happened, but as the car wheezed through the cities, you find yourself with your back against Minho’s chest, his hands slow as they trace up and down your arms, tickling at your neck and tapping at your jaw. Your eyes are hypnotized by the blurring images outside the window while every caress takes you deeper into a headspace normally locked away. That was the pleasure of being half human, to be able to open parts of the mind that possibly would not exist as a demon. 

But the demon half is what allowed you to feel so strongly, to feel another’s energy and feed off such. Surely, humans can experience levels of pleasure that should almost be an abomination, but for demons, that’s exactly what it is. And you can indulge as much as you want, with a hunger that’s never completely satisfied. Moreso, it’s addicting.

Lee Minho is a drug, correct.

The time passes quickly, like the blur of the city at night. Soon you’re in the garage of your home, clambering out of the car before Mr. Jeong can even think of opening the door for you. As an apology, you thank him kindly, tugging Minho behind you as you get to the elevator.

Again, because of the late hour, everything is quiet, safe for the slide of steel as the lift drags you up and up until you’re close to the top, opening to the hall that leads to the suite. 

The apartment is dark since you hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights before leaving, so the windows show the stars of the metropolis, lit skyscrapers and buildings outside, streetlights in the far distance. 

“Do you need help with your dress?” Despite the question seeming genuine, you can feel his breath against your skin, as if you’re not already incredibly aware of every touch he sends your way.

The anticipation is a high of its own, and you become inebriated with the sparks that shoot up your spine.

“I can do it myself.” Before Minho can respond, you pull your heels off, already reaching behind you to pull the zipper down as you walk down the hall to the bedroom.

The structured bodice peels from your torso, and you breathe out easily, feeling free from the confines. Tossing the dress unceremoniously onto the bench sat at the wall by the door, you start on the jewelry, pulling off the pretty rings, taking off the necklace and earrings.

The bathroom light is the first one you have turned on since stepping foot into the apartment, the vanity illuminating so you can see yourself clearly. Everything seems to be intact, the makeup you made sure to thoroughly apply as well as the up-do hairstyle you selected for the night.

You can hear his footsteps as he enters the bedroom, and you make sure to keep your expression neutral as he leans against the bathroom doorway. You’re tempted to look as you hear his shuffling about, no doubt tearing off the tie he was wearing, already rid of his suit jacket, possibly unbuttoning the dress shirt...

Your body deceives you as you sneak a glance. Some of his perfectly styled hair has rebelled, falling on his forehead. There’s a predatory look to his dark eyes as he watches you intently, forceful with the way he unbuttons his cuffs first, then going for the buttons going down the shirt. 

But despite your heart racing and your nerves igniting, you calmly reach for the bottle of micellar water and cotton pads. The point isn’t to be thorough, but rather who will break first, and Minho is on his way to losing, just as he makes his way towards you, at the counter.

Whether he’s admitted it or not, he likes watching you in this manner; loves when you lean over the counter so you can make yourself prettier than you already are, likes when you pay attention to yourself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he makes sure to whisper into your ear, watching you through the reflection of the mirror. He knows he won’t get a reaction out of you. Is that considered masochism?

“I know,” you say, giving a pointed look at him. “But please, refrain from drooling on me so soon. I’m trying to freshen up a bit.”

“Cocky little thing, aren’t you?” teases the man behind you. Again, with his fingers, they touch at bare skin, toying with the lacey trim of your maroon underwear. It’s a stark contrast to the way he digs his nails into your hip. He knows you like the rough touches, like when he makes your body heat spike and sear his own skin.

“Baby, that’s what you love about me.” It’s a fact that you learned quickly. Satisfied with the majority of your makeup wiped away, you fall back on your heels, closing any space that lingered between your bodies. You move your hips slowly, making sure he feels you completely.

With one hand still ensnared on your hip, Minho takes his free hand to take your chin, turning your face up so he can kiss you deeply. 

Intoxicating is his essence, the way it flows like a potent aura off his skin. And his lips, those sweet, delicious lips, they bruise against your own until his teeth bare into your bottom lip. Soon enough you turn around in his grasp, let him move your body until you’re sat on the edge of the counter so your bodies can meet and connect like puzzle pieces. 

The silence of the penthouse could be deafening if it weren’t for the pounding bass of your own heart in your ear drums, or the wet smack that comes from your lips, or the pants that come when you both need oxygen. Your lips move to his jaw, and who knows if it was your legs wrapped around his hips that brought him closer, or if his strong hands on your backside, scratching bruises as he pulled you impossibly closer.

“God, (Y/N),” he groans, letting his head fall back as you continue your attack on his neck. You move your fingers to continue unbuttoning the shirt. “You don’t know what you do to me.” And again he jerks forward, as if you weren’t already feeling his hardening cock against your clothed core.

In a slip of control, your body heats uncontrollably, just as a shiver makes its way down your spine. You laugh freely, feeling your body ascend with electricity.

“But I do, sweetie.” You push the shirt away from his shoulders, and he tugs the sleeves off, tossing the fabric to the side. “That’s why I love making you this way.”

And you’re not the only one that likes it rough, if it wasn’t evident from the moan that comes from his throat when you rake your nails down his chest. He’s back on your mouth in an instant, tearing past the satisfied, breathless grin on your face. 

Your hunger leads you in a certain direction; slipping off the counter, you push him away long enough to get on your knees, already messing with the buttons and zippers of his slacks. This is what feels right, your body tells you. Energy buzzes through you as you mouth at the hard outline of his dick in his briefs. Never do you let an opportunity to tease him escape you. You can sense it, the way his aura spikes when you taunt him with pleasure. It makes him cum more sweetly and harder.

With a groan of your name, you finally push his briefs down, immediately wrapping your hand around his length. Your free hand slides up his thigh, and the muscle underneath jerks.

He’s afraid to look down, is always weak for the sight of you on your knees. His eyes are clenched shut while you give slow licks to the underside of his cock. 

“Look at yourself,” you command. “You always look so beautiful in bliss.” Even your tone sounds like velvet in his ears. It’s easy to obey.

With some pause, he finally blinks his eyes open. The man that stares back at him looks thoughtless enough, and he can’t even recognize the man as himself when his mouth opens for a guttural moan as you take him into your mouth.

A hand goes to your head, his fingers weaving into your strands as best they can before fisting. You wish you could see him more clearly, being truthful about loving the way he looks when he’s floating on a high of pleasure. 

Minho watches as the man furrows his brows just as all the heat pools into his stomach. He thinks he understands, whatever sane part of his brain is still working. 

He finds some reprieve as you pull off, still working your hand languidly. “What did I tell you?” you ask breathlessly. 

His eyes are completely black when he looks down at you, and if you weren’t already drinking in the cologne of his primitive desires, you would probably melt at the look alone. Instead, you decide to go back to your previous actions, working your tongue on his cock, swallowing around him, feeling the weight of him in your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, it’s exhilarating, and it mixes well with the sting of his grip in your hair. It’s a fine line of who is in charge here, just like how you guys like it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, back to staring at the man in the mirror. The red flush that splatters on his chest is a sign of how his body burns, the precipice near. The moan gets stuck in his throat as he does cum, and you drink him happily, licking at his length as it twitches in overstimulation.

The come-down is just as much of a rush as the high. Crashing back to earth and feeling the weight of your body, it’s another pleasure in itself.

You stand quickly, making sure to sandwich your body between Minho and the counter as he leans forward. 

He nuzzles his face in your neck, finding your burning skin to be a comfort. You’re not entirely sure where you are, his touch still electrifying you even though the weight of his spirit settles in your own core. You should be satisfied, to some extent, but you still have the urge to crawl into his skin, to become one with him.

He grins into your ear. “Your turn.” It sounds like a threat, and his grip under your knee as he lifts your leg is stronger than you expect from someone that just came. 

You can’t think properly, seemingly stradling spaces in your head that leave you discombobulated. 

“Bedroom,” is the only word you can get out. You push away, leaving the bathroom first and turning on the lamp on the nightstand, giving just enough light for you to comfortably crawl into the bed.

“Hey, what was that demon’s name, the one I signed the contract with?”

You blink, the question helping clear your head some. “Uh...Hyunjin. Why?”

Hyunjin says, “Long time, no see.” Jeongin’s words play in your head menacingly. 

Minho’s fingers, still adorned in the gold rings he put on earlier tonight, make him look powerful, unstoppable. The hands he used to sign his soul away to a trickster of a demon, the hands that wrote of his adventure with said demon and played it off as fiction. Probably your second favourite thing to Lee Minho apart from his lips. The first time you met him, before he knew what you were, he smiled at you as if he hadn’t committed a single sin. Truthfully, even with your mission still fresh in your mind, a mission you’d done countless times before meeting him, you knew you’d allow yourself to falter, to let Minho slip through the cracks and enjoy the life he sold himself to. And you were going to reap the benefits alongside him. 

But unlike what Minho suspected you were put into his life for -to act as a spy or just a reminder that when he died, he’d spend an eternity bound to hell- you were actually put into his life to make it end quicker than he expected. 

One of those precious hands tap up your foot, petting at your ankle.

“Maybe I should thank him,” Minho thinks aloud with a sinister grin, wrapping firmly onto your ankle and pulling you closer to him. 

“Having you just made this life so much sweeter.”

[godsporncollection]

Saturday Morning Session

(personal commentary in italics) (sorry for how inconsistent i am at this, i’m trying new medication, so my focus comes and goes unpredictably, but i didn’t want this to take weeks)

Russel M Nelson -  strengthen your testimony (?)

"I understand better what he meant when he said 'behold, i will hasten my work in this time.'" 

Y'all have been strengthening your testimonies and i, and your children, thank you. did that inclusion of "your children" feel off to anyone else?

I can see the work on the temple outside my window and that makes me think about how we need to remove the old debris from our lives. I too think of the temple as 'old debris' that should be removed from my life.

"the gospel is a message of joy" I cannot roll my eyes hard enough

that was short. what was the topic? blab for a five minutes?

Dieter F. Uchdorf - god is Among Us

I had to move lots when I was a kid because there was a war on. i thought about the missionaries who came to the country of their enemies to bring us the gospel.

i was a kid in a war-torn country > missionaries > god has not forgotten us > we will be heirs of god > how could we complain when we have that? > the atonement > mistakes are okay, just gotta keep repenting.

what would jesus teach if he was among us today? the same thing he's always taught. "the savior always teaches timeless truths, to everyone, a message of hope and belonging, a testament that god has not abandoned his children that god is Among Us."

jesus says to love one another and to be full of charity towards all men. i would like to see it.

anyone else feel like these talks are just. empty? like, they're not feeling it either?

if jesus came into your home today, he would see into your heart and i'm gonna waste a couple more minutes by expanding on that. one look into his eyes and we would be forever changed by the realization that god is Among Us.

back to me, i wish i could go back and tell myself to stay on the right track because god is Among Us, so i'm gonna tell you instead. god is Among Us.

"line upon line" *gag*

god is Among Us

Joy D Jones - abuse is wrong unless you use it to teach kids about the gospel

"have you ever wondered why we call 'primary' 'primary'?" as someone who understands how language works, no.

because kids are importanter than everything else

god trusts us to be nice to our kids; that means no abuse, even if we're angry. whoever needed this reminder should be shot.

hey, maybe you can "combat the evils of abuse" by not fucking raising your kids in an abusive cult!

analogy of a kid who fell out of bed because he "didn't get far enough in" = he wasn't indoctrinated enough, with awkward collage of pics of kids for a minute.

eyring said to get 'em while they're young

love all the pics of black people that try to say "see? we don't think black people are inherently evil (anymore)!"

analogy of a soldier in boot camp. drill seargants are mean, but that was necessary because apparantly it's the only way this guy can learn how to hide. also, apparently this guy is "our friend". not my friend, thanks.

"how can we do the same for our children?" don't fucking act like a drill seargent to your kids! ffs

"wouldn't we rather have them sweat in the safe learning environment of the home than bleed on the battlefields of life?" first of all, fuck you. second, dramatic much? third, fuck you, kids shouldn't have to learn about life in a hostile environment. does this woman have kids? are they okay? fucking hell, five kids were raised by a woman with this mentality. what a bitch.

"eternity is the wrong thing to be wrong about." i got news for you. of course, if i ever spoke to this machine, that topic wouldn't be my top priority.

I need a fucking drink.

Jan Eric Newman - teaching the gospel is good, but you can't force a testimony on others

anecdote about a local old woman getting birthday gifts. she taught us some good things when we were growing up, so thanks, sister davis.

another teacher, at college, was a "master teacher." he loved me and the lord. he taught me to learn doctrine on my own and that "changed me forever."

just sayin', if you're taught how to learn on your own, but didn't exercise enough critical thought to gtfo of this cult, maybe the teacher wasn't the best.

it's good to have good teachers.

the ancient nephites and lamanites had good teachers, and "there was no contention among them!"

"how can we teach more like the savior and help others become more deeply converted?" nope, nope. nope.

1st, "learn all you can about the master teacher hismelf." so, we're sticking with the term "master teacher." cool. doesn't sound weird at all.

ask yourself questions about how he taught, then do that.

read "teaching in the savoir's way."

2nd, use bullshit stories. oh, no, it's a story about how somebody is grateful for the pandemic because her adult child read the BoM for the first time during it. she said it had made "literal miracles."

3rd, "remember that conversion must come from within." guess jan and "joy" should have compared notes before speaking.

"children inheret many things, but a testimony is not one of them. we can't give our children a testimony any more than we can make a seed grow; but we can provide a nourishing environment, with good soil, free of thorns that would choke the word."

Gary E. Stevenson - kindness

story about a study where rabbits were fed a high-fat diet, but those under the care of a loving researcher didn't gain as much weight.

only christians can intuitively understand that this means there's a reason to be kind to others.

jesus said love one another.

addressing primary kids - be kind. here's a story about a kid who stopped being a bully because the bullied kid said it hurt.

to the teens - social media makes bullying worse, clearly satan is using social media against your generation. do what you can t make these spaces safer. if you're a bully, "stop it."

to the adults- "we have a primary responsibility to set a tone and be role models of kindness (get wrecked "joy"), inclusion and civility."

from ballard- "i have never heard members of this church to be anything but loving, kind, tolerant and benevolent to our friends and neighbors of other faiths." k, but, like, you know it's not just a difference of religious belief that’s the problem, right?

i'm heartbroken to hear about prejudice against blackasianlatino people or of any other group. i love how that section was really only about race, with a blanket "any other group" thrown in as an afterthought so they can't be accused of being homophobic.

in the winter of 1838, jo smith was in prison and why do you think that happened, gary?

church members were driven from their homes and the residents of a town across the river gave them food and shelter. that generosity saved the lives of many of them.

god is a compassionate care-giver.

Gerrit W. Gong - disjointed anecdotes of human experiences, idk

i miss my dad. he was adventurous, except regarding food.

i saw a guy be mean to a lady selling ice cream. he smashed all of her cones. the image of her trying to salvage the cones haunts me to this day.

story of the good samaritan.

be like christ this easter.

"we recieve inspiration as we counsel together, listening to each person, including each sister and the spirit."

does this guy have a topic?

he’s is just giving a list of random human experiences and parables.

*displays a lack of understanding of instagram.*

he's listing something throughout this, like, he keeps counting, but i have no idea what and his voice is making my adhd medication run away, so i'm not listening to this again.

Henry B. Eyring - temple worthiness

today i'm feeling light and hope, like the first day i went to the salt lake temple

i'm an oblivious fucker who didn't notice my name being pinned on me, so i thought the woman who greeted me was an angel because she knew my name.

thought he could remember being in the temple before, but a voice that was not his own (that's how you know it's true and not something he just told himself) told him he was remembering heaven.

confused "holiness to the lord" with "this is a holy place." i know both phrases use the word 'holy', but like, those contexts mean separate things.

i also had this feeling during my wedding in the logan temple.

i think henry should get checked out, he suffers from frequent hallucinations and it's good to know how your brain works differently from others when in a leadership position.

during my wedding, i had a vision of a house and the officiant said to live in a way that you can walk away easily. a year later, my father in law bought the exact house and my wife and i lived in the guest house for ten years. then i got the call to move somewhere else on assignment from the church and we walked away easily.

scripture from jesus about temples.

if you're unworthy in the temple, you won't be "able to see, by the power of the holy ghost, the spiritual teaching of the savior that we can recieve in the temple."

"when we are worthy to recieve such teaching, there can grow, through our temple experience, hope, joy, and optimism throughout our lives. that hope, joy, and optimism are available only through accepting the ordinances performed in holy temples."

i forgot how simple a baptism is, so i'm gonna tell you how amazed (and a little concerned) i was when my youngest daughter stayed to do baptism for the dead for all of the names on the list that day. maybe i'm just super comfortable in the water, but that doesn't sound hard, actually. i used to almost enjoy doing those.

quotes the primary song 'i love to see the temple.'

remember to be worthy so you can live with your family forever.

[seanfalco]

Catch me in the Club | Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader (same as from Playing with Fire) Word Count: 1844 Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive dialogue

a/n: So this is completely self-indulgent and honestly ridiculous, but ever since seeing the new season 2 promotional posters and learning more about the plot, plus reading this post about Klaus running a strip joint in the comics (which who knows if it’ll even be part of the show or not), I couldn’t get this scene out of my head.  Basically just an excuse to write my Reader and Klaus being 60s’ fashion icons and the shameless flirts that they are.  Also titles are harddd.  Don’t laugh at me lol.

—

Pride might not be the first emotion one would connect with the idea of a strip club, but damn if you weren’t proud of what you’d built — you and Klaus, together.

Finding yourselves stranded in the middle of Dallas in the year 1960 after jumping back in time, you’d come out on the other side very much alone, only Klaus’s hand still clasped in yours; the rest of the Hargreeves nowhere to be found.  Thinking them dead, the two of you eventually settled down, making a new life for yourselves, deciding if you were stuck there then you might as well at least make the best of it.

As you emerged from the back dressing room to walk the main floor, you bobbed your head to the music blaring over the speakers, singing snatches of the lyrics under your breath as your gaze swept the room -- at least you’d been stranded in an era with good music, you thought.  

In the hazy light several topless dancers gyrated and twirled effortlessly around their poles as patrons watched hungrily from the bar, some nursing beers while others stared transfixed, completely forgetting the drinks growing warm in front of them.  You had to admit, there was a certain elegance to the way they moved, and you often found yourself staring, probably more often than you would admit; picking up certain moves to make use of in the bedroom later -- Klaus never complaining.

Speaking of which, you spotted Klaus behind the large circular bar filling the center of the room and you ambled toward him, catching his eye before leaning flirtatiously over the smooth shiny surface.

“Hey you,” you greeted, grinning up at him as he met you with a roguish grin of his own.

You had to admit that the 60s’ surprisingly suited him.  He’d let his hair grow long; his silky brunette curls artfully framing his thin face as they cascaded down, brushing his shoulders.  You probably spent about half your time running your fingers through it, relishing just how soft it was and the appreciative sighs it coaxed from Klaus’s lips as he practically melted under your touch.  

The long teal and cream coloured Nehru jacket he wore today was one of your favourites; his fashion sense just as eclectic and eye catching in the past as it was in the future and the pair of you had swiftly become connoisseurs of a strange mix of hippy and mod fashion which on anyone else would probably just look like a hot mess, but for some reason it worked for you.

The one thing you couldn’t stand was staring you right in the face at the moment and you tugged on it with a frown as you batted your lashes at your boyfriend.  For some ungodly reason you still couldn’t fathom why Klaus had decided to trade in his dashing goatee for the long scraggly abomination that currently decorated his chin and though you tolerated it as best you could, you never missed an opportunity to remind him of your displeasure toward it.

“Hey you, yourself,” Klaus replied with a chuckle, leaning in closer, gazing at you dreamily.

“How goes the front of house?” You asked, slipping up to sit on the bar next to him, planting your hands behind you and leaning back to gaze around the room.

“Oh, the usual,” he mused, “just a lot of horny guys watching some half naked women dance for them.”  You snorted in response, glancing over at him.  “Everything alright backstage?” 

“Just a little drama, nothing I couldn’t take care of,” you answered and Klaus nodded.

“The same old drama?” he asked. 

“The same,” you said, rolling your eyes.  Two of the women were notorious for not getting along, and while you attempted to keep them apart as often as possible they were both drama queens and liked to start shit over the pettiest things.

“Soooo,” Klaus prompted, his hand slipping toward your bare leg; crossed over your knee, your foot bouncing idly.  “Are we still on for dinner later tonight?”  

When his finger traced along the length of your thigh from the hem of your miniskirt down to your knee you glanced down, your lips twitching.

“Of course,” you replied, pointedly taking his hand from your leg with a teasing smirk and turning it to trace the ‘hello’ tattooed on his palm with your finger.  “Is there anything in particular you’re craving for dessert?” 

You could practically feel the shiver as it ran through Klaus and your smirk widened.  

“I think you know exactly what I’m craving,” he purred in your ear, returning the favour as a thrill ran through you as well, warmth and want filling you.  

Unfortunately there were still several hours left til your little date, and you were now feeling incredibly impatient.

Opening your mouth to make a suggestive retort the sound of raised voices caught your attention and your eyes quickly sought out the source of the disturbance, cutting you off.  Across the bar a rather rowdy patron had stood, grabbing one of the strippers and yanking her toward him, attempting to cop a feel.  Without missing a beat you jumped down from the bar, your face a thunderhead as you stalked across the room.

“Hey!” you snapped, stepping between the man and the dancer, murder in your eyes.  “There is a strict no touching policy in place here.  So get your hands off.”

The man swayed, obviously drunk, his eyes sliding from the woman behind you to you, his gaze lazily traveling downward before finally coming back to your face before he released his grasp on the performer.

”Touch any of my employees again and you’ll regret it,” you growled, your voice lowering dangerously as you met his gaze.  As you confronted him the woman quickly slipped away, hurrying to the back room to compose herself.

“Oh, and what are you gunna do about it, missy?  Throw me out?  I’ll just come back tomorrow,” the smug bastard slurred, laughing raucously, glancing over at his buddies.  Crossing his arms over his chest he turned back around, leering at you.

Having caught up to you, Klaus appeared, sweeping in to stand at your shoulder, silently offering you backup in case you needed it.

“No,” you replied, no trace of amusement in your voice as you glared the man down, “first I’ll break your hand, then I’ll throw you out myself.”

“Oooh, real scary!” he laughed, glancing over his shoulder for support from his friends.  “I’d like to see you try, girly.”

His laughter cut off with a yelp as you snatched his wrist, twisting til you felt resistance, the man’s surprise turning to a panicked whine and his eyes locked on Klaus at your shoulder.

“Hey man, w-what the fuck?  C-control your woman, why don’tcha!” he cried, trying to pull away from your grasp, but you only wrenched harder.

Klaus looked from the man to you, a small smile playing at his lips and he shrugged lightly.  “That’s not really how it works around here,” he explained, the look in his emerald eyes decidedly proud.  “She’s the boss and what she says goes, so unless you uh, want the use of your hand, which ooh that looks painful,” he exclaimed, his brows drawing down in faux concern as he covered his mouth sarcastically with his hand, “then I suggest you do as the fraulein says.”

The man gaped at Klaus, his mouth moving soundlessly, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

Lifting your eyebrows impatiently you gave his wrist one more yank before he was cracking.  “Alright, alright!” he cried, his voice climbing in pitch, “I’ll go!”

“See that you do, and if you try to come back, you’ll find we won’t be as welcoming.”  With a tight smile you released him and he instantly stumbled back, pulling his arm tight against his chest, cradling it as he backed away.  

“You and your girlfriend are fucking crazy, man!” he exclaimed before stumbling for the door, bumping blindly into several other patrons on his way and weaving through the two bouncers who were now looking your way.  Turning your fiery gaze on the man’s group of friends they quickly turned back to the bar, their shoulders hunched as if to say they wanted none of their fellow’s problems.

Clapping your hands as if satisfied you turned to Klaus, finding an awe filled grin on his face.  

“I love it when you threaten people, [Y/N], it’s so hot,” he murmured, reaching for your arm and pulling you close.

“Oh?  You like that, huh?” you asked wryly, cocking an eyebrow up at him.  “Too bad we’re on the clock right now.”

Klaus shrugged.  “Y’know, I really don’t care,” he mused, leaning in for a kiss, hooking his finger under your chin to tilt your face up.

When you pulled back you frowned slightly.  “Klaus, you know I love you, but… when the fuck are you gunna lose that God awful thing?” you huffed, tugging once more on his long beard.

“Aw, but you love me more than you hate my beard,” he pointed out, his lips twisting cheekily.  “I’d say that's a real testament to our relationship, you know?”

“Mhmm, and one of these mornings you’re gunna wake up to the damned thing cut off,” you replied, turning to walk back to the office.

“H-hey!  Hey hey hey,” Klaus exclaimed hastily, hurrying to catch up to you, your airy fringed kimono billowing out behind you in your haste before he caught your wrist, yanking you around and back toward him, catching you in his arms to hold you in place.

“I promise I’ll trim my beard once we get home tonight, okay?” Klaus relented sincerely.  “Will that make you happy, [Y/N]?” he asked, staring down at you with those damn effective puppy dog eyes of his.

“Have I told you yet today how much I love you?” you asked, a smile cracking through.

“Hmmm, I do seem to recall, vaguely, you saying something to that effect this morning, while we were in bed,” he mused, “but I’d love to hear it again, if you please,” he said hopefully.

Resting your arms around his shoulders you grinned up at him, your foul mood instantly evaporating and you were past caring who saw -- it wasn’t as if your employees and regulars weren’t used to this sort of thing by now anyways.

“Klaus, I love you, you wonderful, wonderful man.  Now, we really need to get back to work.”

The silly grin that lit up his face at your words was more than worth it and he laid a quick peck to your lips before pulling away reluctantly.

“Yes, [Y/N], I am your willing slaveee!” he called, bowing to you with a flourish.  “Until later,” he drawled, waggling his eyebrows at you suggestively before he swanned off, and you shook your head fondly as you watched him, biting your lip to keep from grinning too much before you too turned to get back to work as well.

[spnwatch]

Season 2: The Rankings

Whew. Oh boy.

They were still puttering about in season 1 to an extent. But now? Now they’ve really hit their stride. This season was a veritable chocolate box of delights and I ate my way through it. The overall myth arc was kind of nonsensical, but that emotional throughline? Christ. Spn buries SO MUCH emotional complexity into its leads, and they cashed in every cent in that two part finale. It packs one hell of a punch. And yeah, okay, I knew the broad strokes, the twists and turns. It’s hard not to be spoilered for a season of tv that aired over a decade ago. But reader! It mattered not!! I. Still. Wept. That’s when you know it’s the good kush.  1.) 2x12: NIGHTSHIFTER. This one just snagged the top spot by merit of its sheer ambition. Supernatural often feels like a very empty universe to me, just two guys and one car drifting from place to place. Which is fine, it makes for compelling TV, but they totally flipped the script here and this episode really dazzles precisely because of that contrast. It’s a huge, cinematic episode, a metropolitan setting full of uncontrollable elements, and it’s great to see Sam and Dean so profoundly vulnerable. The outside world is pressing up against the windows. They have sniper dots trained on them! They are, literally and figuratively, out of their depth! We’re not in Kansas any more, baby. God, I haven’t even mentioned the supporting characters. The entire mandroid rant deserves an Emmy. Victor Henrickson’s entrance! Heist movie antics! Agh!  10/10  

2.) 2x07: THE USUAL SUSPECTS. Again this episode was a cut above precisely because it showed us what the brothers look like from the outside: sketchy as all hell. It’s so good when reality ensures, because it’s great to be reminded they lead objectively insane lives! Through Linda Blair’s eyes we get to see just how unknowable, feral and amoral they appear to the eyes of polite society. Put under a microscope like this, they’re scary guys! They’re just not socialised like normal people. They don’t really care about being arrested, or about the felonies. Getting arrested is an irritant above everything else. They’re still working the case from the inside. They’re professionals; excellent liars, and totally in sync with each other. The handwritten notes they pass, like delinquent school kids! A delight! The thrill lies in watching Blair slowly unwrap their strange logic, and unravel the mystery of both the brothers and the ghost. Ugh, what a great perspective shift. I’m 100% here for it. 10/10 

 3.) 2x09: CROATOAN. Ugh, this setting. Small Town Gothic, complete with eerie mist, hostile locals and creepy Stepford vibes. Sam really shone in this episode. He’s so soothing and giant, and it made his suffering at the end all the more devastaing. The real reason this episode ranks so highly is their conversation in the surgery. It just killed me. Dean’s sheer, bone-deep exhaustion, his admission that he’s tired of the life. Sam’s despair, because he knows Dean won’t leave. The performances were so steller. I can’t even really think too deeply about it because it makes me too crazy. 10/10  

 4.) 2x21: ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE: PART ONE. I loved this finale so much more than the finale in Season 1, LOL. It might just be because I’m more invested now, who knows. The opening of this episode is a piece of art: Boston playing on the car stereo, the rain, the small cafe, the lighting. Gorgeous. I love when they have to interact with ordinary people! It adds so much: texture, humour, personality! It draws things out of Sam and Dean that we just don’t see when they have each other to bounce off of. It was so good to see Ava and Andy again. “I just woke up in freakin’ Frontierland!” The gang’s all here, folks! This episode would rank higher, but recieves minus points for the long boring speech the demon gives Sam, and killing off the first gay in the show 0.2 seconds after her introduction. Anyway. The ending of course unzipped me; Dean cradling Sam’s dead body, muttering “It’s okay, it’s not even that bad.” The elation of their reunion, so devastaingly cut short! Sam, twenty two years old, bleeding out in the mud. The sheer, hopelessness of it all. The horror. My notes for the end of the episode simply read: “Dean oh Christ. Oh my God. Oh no.” It’s just one of those scenes that stay with you long after the credits start rolling. 9/10   

5.) 2x20: WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE. I never thought I could be so profoundly upset by watching a man happily mowing a lawn. Dean’s trauma over the loss of his mother has undercut the whole show up until this point, and here it bursts to the fore. What really got me was the simplicity of it all. Just a sit-down dinner, an engagement. A beer on the porch. Fuck, he deserves it. He deserves everything. All the performances were great, they really served to show there’s a whole life in these AU characters. The fact it wasn’t all perfect was bizarrely more devastating. AU Sam’s weird straight hair and dorky jacket sealed the deal for me, as did his baffled terror in the warehouse. But even here, with no training and no idea what’s happening, he gets into the Impala! Because that’s his brother! Because I’m a huge baby I had to remove points because of how upsetting I found Sam’s quiet hostility towards Dean, HA. But that’s really just a testament to how well-realised their dynamic has become by the second season. 9/10  

 6.) 2x15: TALL TALES. Every single thing Sam does in any of Dean’s memories. Also alien slowdance set to “Lady in Red.” Also Bobby breaking them up like they’re petulant children. Gold, all of it gold. 9/10 

 7.)  2x11: PLAYTHINGS. So I’m a slut for a cool setting, obviously. Turns out, Supernatural did The Haunting of Bly Manor fifteen years ago. The swimming pool! The attic! Creepy dolls! The weird little playground! This episode has it all! I loved the saga between the ghost sister and the old lady, which would honestly make a killer movie in its own right. But I’m digressing. The main star of this episode was, of course, Dean’s profound and escalating sexual insecurities. “Well, you are kinda butch. People probably think you’re overcompensating.” FATALITY. I would’ve placed this one higher but the weird incestuous undertones kinda squicked me out... however, I did think we were meant to be creeped out by it, which is more than I can say for some other uh. Instances. It was, after all, beautifully paralelled at the end with the two sisters reuniting in death. “I can’t leave here, and you can’t leave me.” SHUDDER. Also, honestly, can Sam have one (1) breakdown on his own without Dean’s own emotional baggage taking over? Older siblings, smh. 9/10

8.) 2x22: ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE: PART TWO. This one ranks lower than part one purely because I thought the yellow-eyed demon’s overall plot was kinda nonsensical, and I cared not for John’s weird deux ex machina moment. Like do you expect me to feel sorry for that bitch? I don’t! Anyway, that being said, let’s move on to Dean’s eyes in the junkyard when Bobby asks him, “do you have that low an opinion of yourself?” They’re so flat. So dead, like a shark’s. He doesn’t need to say anything back, because it’s all over his face. That non-expression says it all. This is the culmination of the emotional arc that began with his savage beatdown of the Impala in episode 2x02. To call it survivor’s guilt wouldn’t even begin to cover what Dean goes through this episode. It’s all in Ackles’ performance; in the the way he yells, “What am I supposed to do now, Sammy?” The complete claustrophobia of it all. There’s nothing for it but to make the deal. Dean’s been moving inexorably towards this moment for the entire season. 9/10   

 9.) 2x13: HOUSES OF THE HOLY. What a kooky little episode! Magic fingers! Sam’s costcutter seance purchases! The scooby-doo placemat he uses as a makeshift altar! I love him, your honour. Obviously this episode has a lot of *~dramatic irony~* in it because of the later seasons, but it stands alone as a total banger. I was so gutted for Sam when the "angel” was revealed. So many good little Sam moments to be found in this episode. His soft, quiet little revelation that he prays every day. His awkward, earnest explanation to the horrified priest! Dean gets some great moments chasing down the would-be rapist down those dark, snow-covered streets. His speech to Sam where he explains his lack of belief is brief, but it’s a total gut punch. Rounding it off with Knockin on Heaven’s Door was just the cherry on top. 9/10 

 10.) 2x14: BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN. Ahaha I love the way Dean acts whenever Sam’s psychic powers come up. He treats him like a rebellious teen, it’s so funny. “What’s going on with you, Sam? Smokin’, drinkin’?” As if Sam’s behaviour was a) at all under his control or b) anything Dean wouldn’t HIMSELF do. Dean’s just like, this isn’t how I raised you! Truly hysterical. The whole sequence between Meg!Sam and Jo was fantastic and horrible. Sam’s huge physique is never threatening, but it really was in that moment. The interplay between them was totally spine-tingling. Meg’s impression Sam slowly crumbling away over the course of the episode was so compelling and I’m sure it will be a really fun rewatch now I know the *twist*. 9/10  

Favourite lines this season: 

The way Sam says “black cat’s bone” in 2x08

“You’re not gonna go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?!” - Dean, 2x13

“Dean, this is a very serious investigation, we don’t have time for your blah blah blah blah.” - Sam (according to Dean), 2x15

“I’m fine, except for every single thing that’s happening.” - Ava, 2x21 

[sgt-morgan]

Lucky Kentucky ch. 2

Chapter 1

Hello there, welcome back to my Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

“HEY! NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!” To say that the last thing you needed was a missing rockstar, was a drastic understatement, and a testament to your unending will.

“Where in the good sweet name of Jesus is that dick head?” You fumed stomping towards the rest of the band.

“Your guess is as good as ours sweetheart, we got nothing. No phone calls, no texts, no nothing.” Shrugged Steve Rodgers, guitarist and all around good guy. “If I knew that all the time, I think I’d be a millionaire.”

You sighed and looked around you at the fleet of your busses and equipment trucks, and you could have sworn that you were ready to kill that asshole with your bare hands. “Well hot stuff? He better show up quickly, or so help me God he will be sleeping in a tour bus with the newest, dweebiest, roadies I can find. Do you know how bad new roadie busses smell? He will if he dosent get his ass here by the time the last piece of your stage equipment is packed.”

“I think you should land his ass there anyway, to give him time to think about what he’s done.” Sam shrugs, Clint vehemently nodding his support as he wrangles one of his two delightful children. “I think his punsishmet should fit his crimes personally.”

“Oh yeah! I think that’s a great idea! Or, he could stay with Laura and I on our bus, I’m sure the whining infant won’t keep him up all night, He’s gonna love it!” Clint nods, “We have a rule, no booze, broads, or bud around the kids! He’ll dry out quick!”

“No Clint, no worries at all. He won’t sleep or get laid on the roadie bus,” you laugh, “he’ll be surrounded by filth, and endless questions, and gawking. He won’t get the back room either, I’ll give him a bunk. Frankie will be on his bus, that way he never gets away with anything. No escape artists on my watch!” You wink, plucking his oldest, Cooper off his back and wrestling him into a head lock.

“Oof, devious as always.” Natasha laughs nodding and throwing her arm around you. “I remember when I got on your bad side, wasn’t worth the never ending week of publicity with no coffee. That was the strictest ban I’ve ever dealt with for sure.”

“Someone start calling his ass.” You laugh pulling away from Tasha and waking towards Peter to get a rundown on the status of loading up.

“Oh captain, my captain!” Peter saluted, about nine or ten roadies following in his lead while the rest just stood gawking as if they had never seen a woman before. “We are about twenty minutes from setting sail, I have my men sorted into busses and vans, Frankies bus has one extra bed open as per request, and, as our lady of perpetual mystery might be interested to hear, we have a new crew of over eager security team members stocked to the brim on Frankies bus, even worse than the roadies. Is everything ship shape?”

“At ease Parker,” you giggle, shoving him out of his stiff rehearsed stance, “indeed we are ship shape, now if only our little diva Jr. would show face, we could be on our way.” Just as you were finishing that sentence, a car pulled up, and out stumbled the man of the hour, James Barnes.

James Buchanan Barnes was drunk. Inibriated, intoxicated, off his ass, pissed, blitzed, sloshed, ranked, hammered, wrecked, out for the count, drunk. He stumbles out of the Uber, bottle in hand, but at least he was dressed. He stumbled over to the rest of the group, he had a duffel bag, wether it was packed with anything useful is up in the air, you’d make sure you’d get your hands on it and ensure that it had what he needed. Wanda could take care of filling in the gaps. You have now decided that there is no escape from Frankie for him. You’d have to put someone on the bus. You don’t know who yet, but someone. Maybe Quill? Whoever it was, needed to get along with Sam and Steve. Thor, he would work nicely. You’d see to it that Frankie had him moved. Now there was the Liquor problem. This was a decision every road manager has to dread. As any good rockstar could tell you, you have to be stone sober or completely fucked to perform a good show, you just had to decide what would or wouldn’t ruin the band... or him. So, sober it was. No use dragging it on any longer.

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!”

—————————————————————————

Any man alive knew that sound was trouble. No woman used the full Government name if you were in good standings. That was just facts. However, drunk thoughts beget sober truths and the truth is, that was incredibly sexy. When he turned hands raised in surrender whiskey bottle and duffle abandoned he was greeted to the glorious sight of her. Kentucky, dressed in leggings and a ripped up old band tee that he could faintly register belonged to Led Zepplin. Her hair piled up on her head shining in the sunlight her curves begging to be expl-

*whack*

Well, that will sober you up quick.

“Hey dickhead, so glad you could make it!” Sam, not looking too thrilled despite his statement of glad tidings gave him a smile he could only describe as cat catching canary. “I think Lucky needs to see you. Loose the doe eyes, it’s getting creepy.”

“Yeah buddy, I can catch on pretty quick.” He fumbled for what to say, and settled on “Bluegrass, doll, you look stunning this fine morning. Care for a swig of Kentucky’s finest?” He slurred, She sauntered up to him and he could swear he felt the magic, until she snatched the bottle and promptly tipped it out onto the ground. “Hey, woah! Easy there Kentucky, that was a bottle of Kentucky’s finest! that was a bottle of Eagle Rare!”

“No James, your looking at Kentucky’s finest, and you should know that I’m better than all the barrels in Frankfort. Buffalo Trace has nothing on me. Now, since you came in all washed up and wandering right smack dab before the deadline, I’m gonna be merciful, but the next time you pull this shit? Theres a bunk in Frankies bus with the minors that has your name on it. Are we clear? Brooklyn?” She had the empty bottle in her fist, her other arm draped under her breasts and she was jabbing him in the chest. He had never been more frightened and turned on in his entire life.

“Reading you loud and clear KY, I got the message.” He nodded backing away slightly.

“Good!” She smiled turning into an entirely different woman. One with sunshine and laughter in her soul, her perverbial horns retracting. She snatched his sunglasses right off of his aching eyes, and placed them on her face. Low blow, but not entirely unexpected. “Now that the princess is here, load up and let’s roll! First pit stop is in Vegas, so we got a lot of ground to cover!” She stuffed his empty bottle and his duffle back into his hands, and headed for her bus, he just caught the conversation as the Barton family began to load up watching her go by.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Lila?” Clint said helping his little girl put her little pink hello kitty duffle under the bus.

“Is Uncle Bucky in trouble?” She asked innocently looking back at Bucky, who gave her a little wave.

Clint turned to face him, chucking as he met his gaze, “Oh yeah honey, lots and lots of it.”

—————————————————————————

You loaded yourself onto the administrative bus, plopping yourself into the little booth right at the front near the head bus driver, Phil Colson.

“Hello Phil!” You smiled, opening your laptop and checking on your hotel reservation. The kind bus driver smiled and started up the bus. Next on we’re your bunk mates, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, and Peter. That left two bunks open for Tony and Pepper for when they joined you on the occasion.

“Well, I can proudly announce that Barnes’ military training has not gone to waste, even sloppy drunk he knows how to pack his essentials!” Wanda’s beautiful soothing voice waltzes its way into your ears as she and Vision loaded themselves onto the bus. “He’s got his tooth brush and everything! It’s a miracle!”

You nodded at that eyes still focused on checking your route’s traffic and totaling how much it would cost you for a late check in if nessicary. “Good, he can be a functioning adult when he wants to be!”

“The widows are settled onto their bus, everyone’s got what they need. Carol said she could do with some more angry Lucky, she missed you apparently” Bruce sighed plopping down next to you silently checking over your figures.

“I’ve got everything packed so that it should only take the lighting crew and I two hours to shore up, which puts my productivity up by 30%” Vision shrugged putting his arm back around his beautiful wife.

“And I can move heavy things and take good photos. Also, I fixed that stage piece you were worried about and it is no longer does the rocky thingy.” Peter grinned giving you finger guns.

“Ugh, I love the sound of efficiency!” You sigh, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you throw your stuff in the bunk closest to the shower. “Thank you all for agreeing to take this on with me, I wanted you because you’re my A-team, and I knew that I couldn’t do this without you... plus I knew it would look fantastic on your resumes.” The crew in your bus gave a here here for that statement.

“So, Barnes. How do you plan to tackle that battle?” Peter said plopping down on top of Wanda and Vision as if they were just two decorative pillows. “He’s gotta strong will and a heady brooding nature, rough shit I tell yah.”

“Not to mention the fact that he’s incredibly handsome,” Wanda said pushing Peter to the floor, “We know you’re a pushover for that type!”

“Well lady and gentlemen, I plan to kick his ass into shape. Good looks and broody behavior be damned!” You huff.

“I may point out, that is not exactly a plan darling.” Vision says sympathetically patting you on the head as he carries his and Wanda’s things to the back of the bus.

“Well Viz, darling I am well aware of that. I have a plan. He’s gonna have to sober up. This behavior isn’t normal for him, his band mates and Tony have made that clear, he’s on the string for some girl that couldn’t have given less of a shit about him, so he’s all fucked in the head. MY job, is going to be reminding him he’s a goddamn rock star, who doesn’t need a bitch like that to make him happy!” You gesticulate as you unpack the supplies you’d need for a shower. “Then, all should be well with the world again, and I can go back to managing tours that don’t make me want to kill myself.”

——————————————————————————

“Say Stevie, that uh, that Kentucky sure is one tough dame right?” Bucky say’s as he charges shirts, “gotta lot of spunk?”

“Yeah Buck, she’s a real hot head when she wants to be, but she’s fantastic at this. I’ve not seen a better organized tour in my life!” He hears his best friend laugh from the front.

“Not to mention,” Sam started from his position on the couch, “she’s one hot mama, veeeeeery fine. You can tell she knows it too. I wonder if she likes dark chocolate, I think I should find out.”

Bucky felt anger deep in his gut at Sam’s teasing, but for the life of him he can’t figure out why. He dosent need another relationship, hell, dosent want one. That only leads to broken hearts and empty bottles... broken hearts and empty bottles... a little cliche but he could make it work. He’d write it down later. Right now, his sole purpose was intel. Gathering as much info on Kentucky as he could.

“Gotta make sure she’s not already tied up Sammy boy!” He laughed, “besides, I think she likes Seargents.” He winked.

“Well if it’s information on the lady Kentucky you want, I’ve got you covered.” The big braun-y security guy Thor chuckled, “she’s single as it comes, bad break up with some hot douche bag in some other band. Wasn’t pretty that breakup, I tell yah. Frankie and I had to beat the guys face in to get him off her door step, she started road managing in order to get away from him, being constantly on the move made her a moving target, it worked better that way.”

“Sheesh, any ideas on that band name? I’d hate to bump into them sometime.” Bucky shook his head, “she sounds like a tough lady.”

“Oh she is,” Thor chuckled, “got some rough and tumble to her, she’s good at what she does. Hydra? I think that’s the name at least.”

“Sheesh,” Steve muttered, “She messes around with hard hitters huh? Hydra is huge on the pop punk charts, they’re not topping out on the hot 100 or anything, but they pull a decent crowd for sure.”

“Yeah, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard stories about them being absolute dicks either,” said Sam, “poor thing. I hate that for her.”

“She’s a good lady, really, she’s always so kind, goes out of her way to learn names and remember important dates, never afraid to pitch in where she’s needed. You guys are lucky to have her for this tour.” Thor nods, putting his things away and laying down in his bunk.

“Yeah, very lucky.” Bucky nods, daydreaming about a woman he just met. This was gonna be a long tour.

——————————————————————————

Their first stop was in Nevada. Los Vegas, baby. The first show of the tour was at the colosseum at Ceaser’s palace. This meant discounted hotel rooms, larger merch sales, and quite a bit of press was involved, but you were ready to take on the challenge. You arrived in Los Vegas around 6am, all of the bands stumbling off their respective busses and making their way towards the resteraunts in the hotel. You and Bruce headed off to snag hotel keys, and settle the bands into place. Wanda, Vis, and Peter, headed with the rest of the crew and the equipment trucks to the Venue for set up.

“Alright Bruce, you get the Widows settled in their rooms, I’ll take care of the boys. Tell the girls their press is at 10 and their rehearsal will be at noon, they are to be at the venue no later than 9:15. They will arrive and go straight to Wanda, who has outfit options, and makeup. They have a lunch break at 2:00, and they need to be at the venue by 5:00 for their sound check at 5:30, curtain is at 7:30.” You rattled off handing Bruce back stage passes and a few printed copies of tonight’s schedule. “I’ll meet you outside in twenty to send the busses to the venue.” Bruce gave you a tiny salute and you wandered off to find the Commandos. You found them sitting in a resteraunt, a waiter bringing them their drinks. You noticed Bucky had a screwdriver, now that just wouldn’t do. You snatched the glass from him right as the waiter was about to put it in his hand, slamming it back in one go.

“Woohoo! Good morning Kentucky!” Clint laughed clapping with Steve and Sam, who were pointing at a dumb struck Bucky.

“Damn, sugar! I didn’t know you had it in you this early!” Sam laughed.

“We,” you said gesturing between Bucky and yourself, “will take water and a coffee.” You said to the waiter with a wink. “Good morning boys! We’re in for a good one today! Starting off at the colosseum is a great first gig! Now I hate to be a downer, but unfortunately, I gotta lay down the law. This tour will have a no show day drinking policy. Zero tolerance, breaking this rule leads to a prohibition to the breakers caffeine supply, and lands you in a bunk in Frankies bus with the newbies. The only exceptions are exactly one pre show shot and or beer for last minute jitters, or a celebratory toast. Any other hard day drinking will lead to repricutions. Rule number two, I run a right ship, I do not appreciate tardiness. I went easy on you the first day, but here on in, if you are late by more than ten minutes, I will assume you’re dead and send the cops to come find you. Very loud, very messy, and definitely will make the news. So, do I make myself clear?” You looked around and met their gazes everyone seemed to be okay with these rules, except Bucky.

“What the hell lucky? Am I some kinda child or something? No drinking? No tardiness? Am I a high schooler? Jesus, you gotta pair on you if you think that I, a grown ass man would ev-“ your food came about five words into his little tirade, and as soon as the waiter left your food, you shoved a roll in Bucky’s mouth.

“Stuff it Brooklyn, we wouldn’t fuckin NEED these rules if you could get your ass together for five minutes to see what you’re doing! Your drunkenness has made you sloppy, you’re late on your due dates, your waisting Tony’s time and money on your pouty bullshit, and your friends are worried about you. So yes, we’re gonna have rules, they will have consequences, and I’ll beat your ass myself if you show the inability to get it together!” You rant jabbing your finger into his chest to get your point across. “Now, eat your waffles, here’s your schedules, and if you are not showered and decently dressed at the colosseum by 10 am sharp, so help me God I’ll call the cops.” With that you gathered your coffe and your purse and stalked away. Handing Steve they’re schedules, passes, and hotel keys as you went. It was gonna be a long night, you could feel it.

“Did anyone else find that extremely sexy?” Sam asked, and by god Bucky couldn’t help it, he nodded in agreement.

—————————————————————————

Steve and Bucky followed eachother up to their floor of the hotel, crew, secrity, and bands took up the entire fifth floor. Later tonight, when everyone actually got to unload after the show, It would be a real party, people leaving their doors open, coolers of beer, goods and services being exchanged, instruments and duffle bags and food being passed from room to room, it was Bucky’s personal favorite part of the evening.

Right now, it was sad and empty. So, he showered, and he went to sleep. At approximately 10:15 am, Bucky was rudely awakened by a pounding on his door. He looked at the time and he jumped to his feet so fast he almost broke his neck tripping on his sheets. Kentucky was gonna kill him. He just hoped to God whoever was outside his door didn’t drag him out of the hotel in handcuffs.

“Ok Bucky, time to shine!” He muttered to himself and threw open the door. Outside was quite possibly the largest man he’s ever seen, and he was no pipsqueak himself, he towered over bucky by at least a foot, and his biceps were roughly the size of his head. “Hello there, seeing as you’re not in a police uniform, you must be Frankie.” The big man grunted his assent. “Ok then, may we g-“

“Listen here pretty boy, I don’t care if your famous, you hurt Kentucky? I hurt you. Understood?” His voice felt like a blast of attic wind. It made Bucky shiver. Where was this coming from? How would he hurt Kentucky, it’s not like she would ever date him, he couldn’t even get a woman to Mary him, let alone bag an absolute catch like Lucky.

“Yes sir, won’t happen again.” Bucky saluted like he was still in the service then realized what he was doing and always my scratched his head. “Can we?” He pointed at the door, hoping against all odds to escape this absolute shit show of a conversation.

“By the way kid? You’re lucky she didn’t send the cops.”

——————————————————————————

At the colosseum, Y/N was pracitcaply putting a hole in the rug of their dressing rooms, while the various other band mates who bothered to show up on time, sat there bored out of their minds.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you muttered, biting at your bottom lip.

“No your not mama,” Natasha laughed from the couch, “You think he’s sexy, you don’t burn fine art.”

“Dammit, you’re right.” You sighed throwing your hands in the air and plopping dow on top of her and Peggy who were sitting next to eachother looking at dress designs Wanda sent them for SNL next month.

“I like the black one Nat, the red detailing is classy and fun.” You mutter, Peggy nods in agreement.

“I like Wanda’s idea of us all having black dresses with different colors, we could do it 1950’s style and put our hair up? I think it would look really cool. Fits the vibe of our song choice.” Peggy says casually flipping through the designs.

“Carol and I respectfully request to wear suits if that’s ok?” MJ pipes up, “I think two and two will look cool.” She shrugs, I’ll do the regular hair and makeup though.”

“Can I get a broad brim mobster hat?” Carol asks popping up from her place on the floor beside MJ’s chair.

“Yes, I like this idea. SNL will like it too I bet.” Wanda nodded. “If they let Megan and Billie do what they want, I’m guessing your performance will be just as accepted. That and it can be in black and white. Rami Malik is also the perfect host for that. I’ll pitch it to their team.”

“How about you boys, any ideas? You’re the week after.” Wanda said looking towards the Comandos who had already made it.

“I like the Jailhouse rock Idea! I think we sh-” Just then, Frankie walked in holding James by the collar.

“Put him down Frankie,” you sigh “he’s an ass, but we need him.” After Frankie let him go, he brushed himself off and grinned at you sheepishly. “You better have a damn good explanation for this.” You grind out.

“Over slept?”

“Im gonna kill him”

——————————————————————————

All in all, the show went off without a hitch, the bands both sailed through their songs beautifully, and earned themselves an encore. However, on the last encore of the night, Bucky made things a little more interesting.

“This last one, goes out for a little special someone!” When he said that, you could swear he winked at you.

“Hey hey mama said the way you move” when he held out that move? You could feel your soul shake. He was going it slow, taking the opening slow to really get the crowd worked up. It was like he was expressly trying to lock eyes with you, seat his irises into your soul. “Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.” Then when the first two lines were done and they kicked into tempo, you remembered where you were, what you were doing, and you let the song echo behind you, as you went to help Wanda pack up the dressing room.

What was that look? What game was he playing at? He couldn’t want to mess around with you, you were a nobody. He was James Barnes, lead singer of one of the biggest bands of the decade, he had no interest in you. You were a road manager, a stick in the mud, a hard headed know it all. He dosent know a thing about you and dosent want you. You were just getting caught up in the music right?